


It's The Journey

by 68Henley



Series: It's the Journey [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Angst, Character Death, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family, Future Fic, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multichapter, Romance, Tragedy, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 172,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/68Henley/pseuds/68Henley
Summary: The title comes from the old saying "It's the journey, not the destination."  All Blaine wants is to marry Kurt; he hopes his grand gesture will overcome any doubts Kurt still has.  Kurt, on the other hand, still can't get past Blaine's betrayal.  This is the story of how Kurt and Blaine attempt to overcome the pain they've inflicted on one another to build a life together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, thank you for reading.  
> Second, about the rating: yes, there is sex in this story, and some of it is graphic. For that reason, it does have an M rating. However, this is more about how a relationship unfolds over the course of approximately forty years than about sex. If what you’re looking for is non-stop smut, this is probably not the story for you. I will try to make a note before the chapters that have explicit sex, but I will not warn for references to sex that has already occurred, is about to occur, or is desired, or for non-explicit sex. This story was first published on Scarves and Coffee, and a teen friendly (non-explicit) version was later published on fanfiction.net  
> The next issue is Finn. Real life means my time to write and edit is very limited, and so this story was more than a year in the making. I also wrote the end of the story first, as I find that doing so when writing long pieces helps me stay focused on where I’m going with the story. I began writing it during spring break of 2013, prior to Cory Monteith’s death. The end of the story was already written in July of 2013; Finn plays a fairly critical role at the end. When Cory passed away, I was faced with the choice of either leaving it as it was written or changing it so another character performed the actions I had written for him. While it would work with another character, I preferred the words and actions to come from Kurt’s brother, and I felt that leaving it as-is was, in my small way, honoring the importance that both Finn as a character and Cory as an actor had to the show. Therefore, I left it. It truly was a difficult decision, and not just laziness on my part, to continue the story as planned, including Finn.  
> Almost all the Glee characters make an appearance in this story or are mentioned at some point. I have only mentioned those that play significant parts in the story in the character listing. Don’t be surprised when someone not listed shows up.  
> As I said, this story is completed, and it’s just a matter of posting. It will not change. However, if anyone is interested in short one-shots that elaborate on a particular event or scene, or provide background, I might be willing to write some of those (I've done a few and have a few in mind that might be fun to write). Just let me know.  
> Most of the chapters are fairly long; however, there are a few short chapters. This is because while it doesn’t take long to discuss the events of the short chapters, they are very important, and I feel they deserve their own chapter, rather than being mashed in with something else.  
> Next, I edited this myself. I tend to be fairly good about grammar, but there are times when for stylistic reasons or to maintain a character’s manner of speaking I will ignore grammar rules. In addition, while I am well aware that “him and Blaine” or “Blaine and him” is correct when it is the object of a sentence, “he and Blaine” sounds better, so I tend to use it consistently, even though it isn’t grammatically correct. In addition, I’m human, and I make mistakes; on what was literally the fourth time through I found missing words, incorrect words, and other mistakes. I also did my best to maintain internal consistency. I hope there aren’t too many blatant mistakes, but I make no promises.  
> On a related note, computers do not tend to be my friend, so I apologize in advance for any weird formatting issues.  
> Finally, this story is canon up through the end of the fourth season, with one exception. You’ll see that exception, and the explanation that reconciles it, fairly early, and you’ll know it when you see it. The rest is AU. For the most part, the relationships were already established as of the end of season four, or of my own creation; however, there was one season five relationship I liked so I dropped it into the story. The story itself starts literally minutes after the end of the fourth season (another advantage of having written the end first: the last four chapters and epilogue took until after the fourth season ended, so I was able to include the end of that season without re-writing when I finally started the beginning of my story).  
> Again, thank you so much for reading!

IT’S THE JOURNEY

CHAPTER 1

New Directions had just won regionals, followed by Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury getting married as the entire glee club, plus several former members who were in town, watched. It wasn’t the wedding everyone had envisioned for them, but at least it had happened. Kurt and Blaine’s wedding would be nothing like that, Blaine knew. It would be a romantic, fairy-tale affair; all he had to do was convince Kurt to marry him, and step one was to actually pop the question.

Everyone began to filter out of the room. Blaine hung back until he saw Kurt starting to leave. Following Kurt, he called, “Kurt, wait up! Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Kurt turned and waited for Blaine to catch up. As he did so, he reached out and took Kurt’s hand. Kurt looked at their joined hands, then up at Blaine, but did not pull away. “Down here,” Blaine said, leading him down an empty hallway. He certainly didn’t envision proposing in a deserted high school hallway, but he didn’t know how much longer Kurt was going to be in town; Kurt hadn’t told him. That was the way things had been recently: they would see each other when Kurt was in town, and even do a few things occasionally like go out to dinner or a movie, there was usually a booty call or two, but Kurt was talking to him less and less, not telling him details about his plans. He needed to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Kurt,” he began, “You are the love of my life. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I know I fucked up, literally, but that just made me realize how much I wanted you, no one else. Everything about that felt wrong. I was feeling hurt and neglected and ignored and alone, but I understand now that I was being insecure and that you still loved me, you were just busy and overwhelmed by starting out in New York. I . . . I want us to move past that, and start our lives together. What I’m trying to say, obviously not very well, is . . . Kurt, will you marry me?” With that, he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, where he had placed it when he saw Kurt walking out of the choir room, and opened it.

Kurt stared, open mouthed, at the ring for a moment before shaking his head. “Blaine, you cheated on me. I can’t forget that. I’m trying really hard to forgive you, but I’m just not there yet. When that happened, we broke up, in case you forgot.”

“But, every time you’re in town, we do things together, things that look and feel an awful lot like dates. And pretty much every time you’re here, you sleep with me. Don’t tell me that doesn’t mean anything,” Blaine protested.

“It doesn’t,” Kurt said coldly. “And besides, since we broke up, I’ve started seeing someone else. I’m with Adam now.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Tears began to stream down Blaine’s cheeks. He had been hearing about Adam for a while now, on the fairly rare occasions when they did talk, but he didn’t know that he and Kurt were together. Nothing had changed about how Kurt talked about him, and Kurt had slept with him several times since he began mentioning Adam. He felt used. Apparently that was all he was to Kurt now, all he had been for a while: a booty call. He couldn’t believe Kurt had done this to him, said those things to him. And the worst thing was, he still loved him. If Kurt turned around and said yes, he would still marry him.

* * *

Kurt was well aware he was being cruel. He wanted to hurt Blaine as much as Blaine’s cheating had hurt him. He wanted to teach Blaine a lesson. And throwing the cheating and Adam in his face seemed like the best, most effective way to do it. The truth was he was playing up his relationship with Adam. He knew Adam was interested, and they’d gone on a few dates, but he felt no chemistry. Adam was nice enough, and fun to spend time with, but that was it. They had shared a few kisses, but he had no desire to go further, although he knew Adam did. But Blaine didn’t know that. Letting him believe he cared about Adam more than he did, letting Blaine believe Kurt was just using Blaine for convenient sex, cut Blaine to the core. Now he knew how Kurt felt.

But the reality was that he still loved Blaine. It killed him to say no. He truly wanted nothing more in life than to marry Blaine. He wanted it more than Broadway, more than a fashion career, more than he wanted to be out of Ohio forever. The reason he slept with Blaine each time he came to town was that he couldn’t stay away, and it was the only time he ever felt truly complete. He dreamed about Blaine, about their future together. On one hand, he couldn’t wait to start that future, but on the other, he was still so hurt by Blaine’s betrayal that he couldn’t say yes when Blaine proposed, even though he loved him so much it hurt.

And so he had said no. He went out to his car, forced himself to drive away from the school, and pulled onto the first deserted residential street he saw. Stopping under an old oak tree, he turned his car off, placed his head on the steering wheel, and sobbed. He cried for what was lost, what he had just thrown away, what might never be. And he cried for the chance he might never have again.

* * *

Months passed, bringing relief for Blaine in the form of final interviews and auditions for colleges. Because of Kurt, he had placed the most emphasis on colleges in New York City, but he had, at his parents’ insistence, also applied to a number of other colleges, some as far away as California. He had received early acceptances to several Ivy League Schools and Stanford, but for business or engineering programs. The final auditions for the arts programs weren’t until spring, with most falling neatly between regionals and nationals, time-wise. And he knew, deep in his heart, his path in life lay in the arts. Unlike Kurt, he wasn’t committed to Broadway; he felt he could be happy there, but knew he would also be able to enjoy working as an actor on television or in films, as a singer, a songwriter, or even possibly a playwright or writing for the screen. He promised his parents that even if he was admitted to an arts program, he would double major and get a “practical” degree as well, even though he was certain he would never use it. However, the promise did net him his parents’ support, financially and emotionally, for his arts auditions. And without Kurt, he needed his parents’ emotional support more than he had ever thought he would.

However, one audition proved to be a problem: his NYADA audition. With the promise to his parents came the implication that he would attend a school which would permit him to double major in arts and either business or engineering. NYADA, on the other hand, had no non-arts majors. Therefore, he couldn’t tell his parents about the upcoming audition, and unfortunately, unlike last year, Carmen Tibideaux would not be traveling to the western Ohio area. He would have to travel to New York to audition for NYADA, and do so without alerting his parents.

Therefore, the NYADA audition involved an elaborate ruse. First, he called Wes and David to arrange his cover: as far as his parents knew, he would be visiting them at Yale. They would pay for his flights to New Haven and back home, allowing him to take a day off from school to get to see the campus and attend a few classes with Wes and David to get a taste of college life. After he arrived Thursday night, David would drive him into the city, and pick him up after the audition. Now he just had to find a place to stay that would not show up on his credit card; he would need all his cash for meals and transportation in the city, so paying in cash was not an option. He tried to call Kurt, but he wouldn’t answer. Finally, he gave up and tried Rachel and Santana, ending up leaving messages for both. Santana called him back, telling him he was welcome to crash on their living room floor, but she wasn’t giving up her place on the couch. Fortunately, he could explain bringing a sleeping bag and pillow as needing to use it when he slept on the floor in Wes and David’s dorm room, which was, of course, set up for only two people. So it was decided: he would stay at Kurt, Rachel and Santana’s apartment the night before his audition. Once the audition was over, David would pick him up, unless it was too late, in which case he would stay one more night and David would pick him up Saturday morning. Although he felt slightly guilty lying to his parents, Blaine breathed a small sigh of relief once the arrangements were made.

David dropped him at the curb in front of the apartment, helping him unload an overnight bag, his sleeping bag and pillow, and his guitar. He hugged Blaine and told him to break a leg, then got back in his car for the hour and a half ride back to New Haven. Feeling a bit like a pack mule carrying all his things, Blaine made his way up the stairs to the apartment.

He knocked on the door, and heard Rachel yell, “Coming,” from inside. She opened the door, and stood staring at him for a moment. “What are you doing here?” She demanded.

“I was going to stay the night. My NYADA audition is tomorrow. Didn’t Santana tell you?” Blaine answered.

“No, she never said anything to me, and I’m pretty sure Kurt doesn’t know either,” she hissed, glancing behind him, then dragging him into the apartment. “We have to figure out what to do.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. We’re all adults. Kurt and I have had our differences, but we’re still friends,” Blaine said, hoping it was true.

“For everyone’s sake, I really hope you’re right,” Rachel said, muttering, “I’m gonna kill Santana,” to herself.

* * *

Kurt and Adam had managed to get cheap student rush tickets to Nice Work If You Can Get It, and went out for a late dinner afterwards. It had been a wonderful night, but on the way home Kurt found himself wondering if he could get away with not kissing Adam goodnight. He still enjoyed spending time with Adam, and other than Rachel, Adam was his best friend in New York, but that was all he was. There was no spark, no fire. It was nothing like he felt when he was with Blaine. He was preoccupied with finding an excuse to say goodnight at the door and avoid a kiss, thinking that pretending to have a sore throat might be effective, as he opened the door to the apartment and froze in shock.

Crouched on the floor in his living room was Blaine, unrolling a sleeping bag as Santana warned him, “If you don’t move that over there, Hobbit, I’m going to be stepping on you over and over.”

“What are you doing here?” Kurt asked breathlessly.

“My NYADA audition is tomorrow. My parents don’t know, because they made me promise to double major in something ‘practical’ which isn’t possible at NYADA, so I didn’t tell them I had applied. And since they don’t know, I had to go to some pretty extreme measures to get here and do the audition without them finding out. I can’t put anything in the city on my credit card, so I asked if I could stay here. Santana said yes. I thought she had told you and Rachel,” Blaine explained, throwing a dirty look in Santana’s direction. Santana just shrugged, unconcerned by her oversight.

Adam stood behind Kurt awkwardly. He wasn’t certain who the young man in Kurt’s living room was, but he had a pretty good idea. Suddenly, Kurt turned to him and kissed him passionately. “Come on, Adam,” Kurt said, practically dragging him to the partitioned-off area that served as his bedroom. “Make love to me,” he demanded.

Taken aback, Adam just stared at Kurt. “Well, do you want to fuck me or not?” Kurt demanded.

Adam had dreamed of this for some time. He was incredibly attracted to Kurt and had wanted to make love to him since before even asking him out for the first time. But the suddenness made him wonder, in the back of his mind, exactly what had caused the change. He had felt that Kurt was pulling away from him, might not want to be with him, and suddenly Kurt was demanding they jump into a sexual relationship. However, he wanted this too much to listen to the small voice in the back of his head, the one that said something was wrong here, that this wasn’t really what Kurt wanted, it wasn’t about the two of them at all, that Kurt would never have used that language if he really wanted to take their relationship to another level. He pushed the doubts away, undressing himself in between helping Kurt pull off his clothes. He attached his lips to each newly revealed bit of skin, not able to get enough. He did everything he could to make Kurt happy, but he knew that despite Kurt’s physical response, emotionally, something was wrong. After they finished, Kurt rolled away from him and wrapped his arms around himself. Adam tried to talk to him, but Kurt cut him off, saying, “I need a shower, and I’m really tired, and I have a lot to do in the morning. Do you mind letting yourself out?

***

Rachel was about to go to bed when Kurt got home. She had been tired a lot lately, but told everyone it was just the stress of her class load combined with worry about her Funny Girl audition. When Kurt abruptly kissed Adam, then dragged him to his room, she exchanged an astounded glance with Santana. While it was clear Adam was quite attracted to Kurt, Kurt had never seemed that serious about the relationship. The apartment’s interior ‘walls’ consisted of curtains, cheap book cases, and furniture, and as such did little to muffle the conversation occurring in the next room, nor the sounds which followed. A blush began to creep up Blaine’s cheeks, and he struggled to hold back tears, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor near his feet. Santana finally rescued them all by claiming to have an early morning commitment and needing to get to bed. She turned out the lights and Rachel headed to her own room.

Blaine curled up in his sleeping bag, letting his tears fall silently in the dark, wishing he couldn’t hear what was going on in the next room. He finally managed to block the sound by lying on one side, grabbing a throw pillow from a chair to muffle the sounds trying to make their way to the ear he wasn’t lying on. Sleep claimed him before the activity in the next room ceased, so he didn’t hear the final conversation, nor did he hear Adam leaving or anything that followed.

 

***

Adam was hurt, but decided to give Kurt his space. He wasn’t dense. Something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what that something was. He dressed quickly and left as quietly as he could, trying not to wake anyone on his way out.

After Kurt heard the door close behind Adam, he waited a minute, then quickly crossed the apartment and locked the door. Afterwards, he headed to the bathroom. He turned the shower on hotter than was really comfortable and climbed in as the mirror started to steam. Once in the shower, with the water to mask both the sight and sound, he let his tears fall freely. Grabbing a loofah, he began to scrub his body furiously, not stopping until his skin was raw and the water ran cold. He felt absolutely filthy, even after the shower, although he wasn’t sure why. Adam liked him, they’d been going out for several months, he didn’t have a reputation for playing around, and he’d always been a perfect gentleman to Kurt, even tonight, even in bed. All Kurt knew for sure was that he never felt like this after he’d been with Blaine.

***

Blaine arose early the morning of his audition. He would have liked to have passed it off as nerves over his audition, but he knew it was really that he dreaded the possibility of facing Kurt this morning. So he got up shortly after dawn, took a quick shower, and, pocketing the key Santana had lent him and grabbing his guitar, let himself out. He intentionally headed away from NYADA to find a coffee shop. He didn’t want to chance running into Kurt. He picked at a pastry he’d chosen from the case without registering what it was and drank his coffee while waiting until he could expect the practice rooms at NYADA to open.

He finally deemed it late enough and headed to NYADA, hoping he didn’t see Kurt. A block of practice rooms had been reserved for the use of those auditioning, available on a first come, first served basis. His audition was scheduled for mid-afternoon, and he had originally planned to hang out at the apartment during the morning, but since he couldn’t stay there comfortably now he was going to camp out in a practice room until his audition, even though he knew it was rude to take up that much time. Besides, he had a good reason. He had originally planned to do one of several numbers from the many musicals he had memorized; they were all prepared, and he had planned to choose at the last minute – he’d had a lot of luck in solo performances deciding at the last minute based on what just felt right in the moment. But now, none of them seemed right. Well aware that he was taking a risk that might lose him any chance at securing a place at NYADA, he had decided to go with a song that wasn’t from a musical, and it was nowhere near as well prepared. He really needed the time to rehearse. He had planned to play the piano – the guitar was a backup, but this song needed the guitar and he barely knew the chords. But it was the way he felt right now. One of the first to arrive for the auditions, he easily found an open practice room in the reserved block and slipped in to get to work.

One thing he hadn’t counted on was being able to hear the NYADA students talk as they changed classes or lounged between them if they had an off period. Midmorning he cringed as he heard a familiar voice, one he’d heard too much of last night, right outside the door. “Hey, have you seen Kurt?” The voice inquired of someone else in the hallway.

“No. He’s missed at least the two classes we have together this morning. I don’t know about his others. Why?” A stranger’s voice replied.

“Because I haven’t seen him either, and he’s not answering his phone,” the familiar voice said in a worried tone.

“Is something wrong? I thought things were going pretty well between you two,” said the other voice.

“I’m not sure. I thought they were, but last night something happened,” the first person said.

No, Blaine thought, Don’t say anymore. He might not have approved of what had happened last night, and it might have broken his heart, but no matter what Kurt had done, he didn’t deserve to have his sex life become a topic for public conversation.

“What?” The second person continued the interrogation.

As Blaine held his breath, he heard the first person say, “I’m not really sure. I think I might have done something that upset him or made him mad, but I’m really not sure what I did or why he’s unhappy. I need to talk to him about it. Just let me know if you see him, and tell him I’m looking for him. I need to apologize, even if I’m not sure what for.” Then Blaine heard two sets of footsteps heading away from the door of the practice room, going in opposite directions. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad he didn’t have to hear any more of the conversation about Kurt, and even more relieved that the guy apparently wasn’t interested in spreading rumors or bragging about his conquests. He really did seem like a decent guy, despite the fact that he and Kurt had just shattered every dream Blaine had about his future. And if Blaine couldn’t have Kurt, he could at least hope that Kurt would find love with someone who would love him back and treat him well.

***

Kurt slept late that morning, throwing his phone across the room when his morning alarm went off. He ignored its persistent ringing later that morning until Santana yelled at him to turn it off. Looking at Adam’s face on the display, he hit ignore and turned the phone to silent, dropping it back on the floor next to the wall before crawling back into bed to stare listlessly at a spot slightly higher up on the same wall.

He didn’t want to talk to Adam. He didn’t want to have to face him. He didn’t want to have to admit that the only way he was able to have sex with Adam was by picturing Blaine. And even more than not facing Adam, he didn’t want to face Blaine. He couldn’t. He had no explanation for last night for either of them; he didn’t even have an answer that satisfied him. And he didn’t even want to begin to think about the interrogation he’d receive from Rachel and Santana.

He had no idea what time Blaine’s audition was. That little tidbit of information was something he’d forgotten to ask in his surprise last night. So he waited in bed until the long silence told him the apartment was empty. Finally, he could delay getting up no longer. He had skipped all his morning classes, which fortunately were the academics that NYADA had to not only offer but require to keep its accreditation; since the focus was Broadway, and everyone knew it, most of the academic professors tended to be pretty lax about attendance, even if they did have an annoying habit of actually assigning and grading work and tests. His afternoon classes were a different story; he had dance, acting and voice this afternoon, and the performance teachers were as strict about attendance as the academic instructors were lenient. So he pulled himself from the bed, showered, and headed in to school, hoping he could avoid Adam. Hell, while he was at it, he’d like to avoid Blaine, too; and Rachel, and Santana, now that she was taking extension classes at NYADA.

Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. Adam saw him almost as soon as he entered the building. “Kurt! Kurt, we need to talk.” Kurt turned on his heel and headed the other direction, not answering. It wasn’t subtle or smooth, but at least he hoped Adam would get the message. Again, no luck. “Kurt, please. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Can’t we please talk for a minute?”

“Look, Adam, I’m late for class. You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t need to apologize, and I don’t want to talk about it. I have to go or Cassie will kill me. I already have to overcome being Rachel’s friend.” Kurt delivered his speech in a single breath, then headed to the dance studio where his class was being held as fast as he could.

Adam just stood, dumbfounded, looking after him.

***

After Kurt’s dance class, he had a free hour before his voice class. Wandering in the direction of the room, prepared to spend the time in a quiet corner doing the work for the classes he’d missed, he saw a sign on the door to the voice room informing him that the class was moved for the next week due to auditions. Great. Now he had to find the other room. He was about to turn to do so when a piece of paper tacked to the wall next to the door caught his eye. It was a list of the people auditioning. The next name on the list was Blaine Anderson. Unable to stop himself, he risked Carmen Tibideaux’s wrath by slipping in and sitting in a back corner where he was partially obscured from the stage at the front of the room.

Kurt spent the next few moments split between hoping that Carmen wouldn’t notice him, that she wouldn’t eviscerate Blaine for whatever faults she perceived, and that the girl auditioning before Blaine would finish her abysmally bad performance quickly. Last year the rumor was that Carmen had wanted to hand pick her inaugural class. This year they had learned the truth: she was a monumental control freak and didn’t trust the other voice instructors to choose the students for her program. On the one hand, Kurt found that somewhat disturbing; on the other, if you could survive her scrutiny, you probably had a pretty decent chance of making it. The girl currently being shredded before him would not be one of the lucky survivors.

After the girl left in tears, Carmen closed one file folder and opened another, calling out “Blaine Anderson,” as she did so.

Blaine stepped onto the stage, carrying his guitar. “Hello. I’m Blaine Anderson, and I’ll be performing Try Not to Cry.” Kurt was confused; he didn’t know the song and couldn’t place the musical. However, before he could think too much about it, Blaine dropped the guitar strap into place over his shoulder and began.

Try to feel the wind  
Blowing through your hair  
Try to feel the rain  
Falling from the sky  
Try to hear the sounds  
Of people everywhere  
Go to sleep alone  
Try not to cry

Try to make a million  
In one eight hour day  
Try to dig that feeling  
See if time can fly  
Try to wake the dead  
With the music that you play  
Go to sleep alone  
Try not to cry

Try to say to someone  
What someone said to you  
We’ve all been burned by love before  
It’s a feeling you get used to

Try to take the city  
All in just one night  
Try to stare down lovers  
As they go strolling by  
Try to blow their cover  
Make ‘em feel uptight  
Find someone, take ‘em home  
Try not to cry

Try to say to someone  
What someone said to you  
We’ve all been burned by love before  
It’s a feeling you get used to

Try to rise above it  
With your brand new wings  
Try to say you love it  
Now you’re free to fly  
Try goodbyes to no one  
Friends don’t mean a thing  
Go to sleep alone  
Try not to cry

Try to feel the wind  
Blowing through your hair  
Try to feel the rain  
Falling from the sky  
Try to hear that name  
Pretend that you don’t care  
Go to sleep alone  
Try not to cry  
Try not to cry

By the chorus, Kurt was choking with the effort not to cry and to stay silent. He pressed further back in his seat and willed himself to become invisible.

“Young man, this is a musical theater school. People usually audition with a song from a musical, but if I’m not mistaken, that song is not from a musical.” Carmen commented.

“You’re correct, Madame Tibideaux,” Blaine answered, “but I believe musical theater is about being able to convey emotions through song, and I think this song demonstrates my ability to do that.”

“Interesting. You may go.” Carmen said. Blaine walked off the stage, and the door closed behind him. “Do you have something to add, Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt shook his head, letting out a strangled, “No.”

“Then you may go as well.” Kurt fled.

***

Blaine wasn’t sure who the shadowy figure in the back corner of the room had been. He couldn’t see him clearly in the dim lighting. He had his suspicions, however, and if he was right, it was someone he really didn’t want to see right now, so he grabbed his guitar case as he passed by, waiting until he had left the building to replace the guitar in the safety of its case. He took the subway back to the apartment, then grabbed his suitcase, sleeping bag and pillow. He locked the door behind him, then dropped the key at the club where Santana worked as a waitress a few blocks away.

He was done soon enough for David to come get him this afternoon if he could break away, but he had texted Blaine this morning to warn him he might need to attend a study group in the early evening, and it might run long. Blaine didn’t want to risk having to spend another night in the apartment, listening to God only knew what. He took stock of his remaining cash. If he skipped lunch, he could scrape together enough to pay for a metro pass to New Haven in cash. The decision made, he headed for the station.

He texted Wes and David to let them know he was on his way. Wes arrived at the station to pick him up, asking, “How did the audition go?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Blaine sighed.

“Wow. The incredible Blaine Anderson blew an audition? That’s a first,” Wes chuckled. Blaine just glared at him. “Well, how was Kurt?”

“I really don’t want to talk about that.” Blaine stated with finality. “You know what? Let’s make a deal. Let’s pretend none of today or yesterday ever happened. Trust me, we’ll all be better off that way.” Wes shot him a concerned look, but kept quiet the rest of the way to the dorm.

Blaine spent a much more restful night that night, after managing to convince Wes and David that he did not need to be cheered up, he was just tired, and really needed a bit of time to decompress. As his temporary roommates settled into a fun Friday night of reading, homework and papers, Blaine let himself sink into a blissfully dream free, exhaustion fueled slumber.

***

Kurt knew nothing of Blaine’s plans. He didn’t know how long Blaine was staying. He just knew he didn’t want to see him. So he waited at school as long as he could, practicing in various dance and voice studios until he was kicked out of them, and then working on academics in the library, until it closed, as a last resort. He finally headed home, hoping Blaine would be gone or asleep.

Entering the apartment, he saw Santana piling her blankets and pillows on the couch in preparation for bed. He looked at her with a question in his eyes. “Blaine’s gone, has been for hours,” she told him. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Go see what Berry’s problem is, would you? She’s been home since before I got here, she won’t talk to me, and she’s been bawling the entire time, apparently.” For the first time, he registered the sound of crying coming from the next room.

Concern for his friend instantly crowded out any lingering feelings about the events of the last couple of days. Entering Rachel’s room, he found her curled on her bed, sobbing. He sat next to her and stroked her hair. Pushing a strand back from her face, he asked, “What happened?”

“I didn’t get it. I’m not Fanny Brice. I’m the understudy!” She exclaimed, as if that was the worst thing that could ever have happened. This dramatic announcement was the introduction to a fresh round of tears.

“Listen, Rachel, I know how much you wanted this, and believe me, I think they’re making a mistake, I mean, you are Fanny Brice, we all know it. But someday everyone’s going to see what a star you are. There will be other roles. Roles that you define, so that someday some young ingénue is going to be hoping to fill your shoes. You don’t need to step into Barbra’s shoes – you need to make everyone else wish they could step into yours.” Kurt comforted her.

Sniffling, she sat up. “You’re right. Thank you. I guess I better call Finn.”

“Um, Rachel, you do know it’s after midnight, right? I think you can wait until morning to let him know about the part,” he told her.

“Not about the part, Silly, about the baby,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The what?” He gasped, dumbfounded.

“I’m pregnant,” she told him. “About two months.”

“Not to be rude, but are you sure? And are you sure it’s . . . um . . . are you sure it’s Finn’s?” Kurt questioned.

“Of course I’m sure. Santana found the pregnancy test in the trash and insisted I go to the clinic. They did a urine test and a blood test. They both came out positive. And yes, it’s Finn’s. I can’t believe you’d even ask that.” She rushed, sounding slightly outraged.

“I hate to be the one to point this out, but you were with Brody during that time period too. Finn’s my brother. He already had one girlfriend cheat on him and try to pass someone else’s baby off as his. I just don’t want to see him go through it again. I don’t want him hurt again, so you better be sure if you tell him this.” Kurt said. Before she could respond to him, he had another thought, “Wait. You said Santana knew. How could you tell her and not me? And how could she keep her mouth shut for this long?”

“To answer your questions, Brody was always very careful about condoms,” she began.

“Which aren’t foolproof,” he pointed out.

“I know, but let’s just say that Finn was a little less painstaking about them. So I have no reason to think it’s Brody’s, not his. I don’t want to hurt Finn either. And I know he wants to be a dad someday, I mean just think about how willing he was to step up and take care of Quinn’s baby. So I guess someday will be in about seven months, and he should know. And as for Santana, she figured it out and took me to the clinic; I lied to her about the test results, so as far as she knew there was nothing to tell. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know,” she finished.

“But why? I’m supposed to be your best friend, we live together, and it’s my brother’s baby. Didn’t you think I’d find out eventually?” Kurt was confused, and a little hurt.

“Not if I didn’t keep it,” Rachel whispered.

“What?” Kurt asked, shocked.

“Fanny Brice isn’t pregnant. I couldn’t lose the part of my life over a baby. So if I got the part I was going to get rid of it, and no one needed to know,” she explained quietly.

Kurt shook his head, a hand over his mouth partially hiding his shocked expression. “I can’t believe you would do that. And never even tell Finn.”

Rachel just looked at him. “You’re just like me. Ambitious, driven. You understand, right? You have to understand.”

Backing out of the room, he said, “I would never do that to my own child over a job! I can’t talk to you right now. Please don’t try to talk to me again until I’m ready. Text me and tell me after you’ve talked to Finn.”

Fleeing to the bathroom, he typed out a quick text to Finn: Call me after you talk to Rachel. Then he started the shower, washing away the sweat of the day before falling into bed, knowing he would be unable to sleep despite, or maybe because of, the stressful day he’d had.

***

Finn called him early the next morning, only a couple of hours after he had finally managed to fall asleep. “Dude! Did Rachel tell you? She’s pregnant! I’m gonna be a dad!”

Finn was clearly ecstatic, and Kurt hated to have to be the one to burst his bubble, but it had to be done. “Finn, I need you to calm down and listen to me. There are things you need to know.”

“Sure, man, shoot. You’re gonna be an uncle! Aren’t you excited?” Okay, so the calming down would take a while.

Kurt took a deep breath and began, “Remember when Quinn got pregnant, and told you it was yours, even though it was Puck’s?”

“Yeah, but that was different. Rachel and I have actually slept together,” Finn said.

“I know, but Finn, she was also sleeping with Brody around the same time. I just don’t think we can be sure it’s yours.”

“Kurt, why are you saying this? She’s supposed to be your best friend!” Finn began to get angry.

“Yeah, my best friend who’s known she was pregnant for at least a month without telling me, and who was planning to get an abortion if she got the part she was trying out for and not ever tell any of us!” Kurt blurted out. Okay, that really didn’t come out the way he’d planned it, not that he’d really formulated much of a plan. Maybe he should have.

“I don’t understand why you’re saying all this awful stuff about Rachel. Are you jealous because we have a chance to be happy together and you screwed everything up with Blaine? Yeah, I know about that, but it doesn’t give you the right to try to hurt Rachel and I!” Finn was fuming now.

“I’m saying this stuff because I know it’s true. Why don’t you ask her about it? And because you’re my brother and for some insane reason I love you as if we’ve always been brothers, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again!” Kurt yelled back. He was just trying to protect Finn, and bringing Blaine into it was a low blow.

“I really don’t know why you’re trying to ruin everything for me right now, but I don’t want to talk to you until you can just be happy for Rachel and I,” Finn told him. Then he heard the line go dead as Finn disconnected the call.

Well, that was just great. In the last forty-eight hours he’d managed to hurt Blaine, Adam and Finn, and probably destroy his relationship with Rachel. He was on a roll now. Maybe he could piss off Santana and make a clean sweep of it; the only problem was she’d probably just kill him, but really, at this point, he was having a hard time finding a down side to that.

***

Blaine’s gamble paid off. He got into NYADA, as well as most of the other arts programs to which he’d applied. He was torn. NYADA was the premiere school in the country for musical theater, but while he was certain he wanted a career in the arts, he wasn’t so sure he wanted it to be in musical theater as opposed to pure vocal work, film or TV work, or something else entirely. So another school might just be better to get a more general arts education. Then there was the promise to his parents to double major; NYADA would not allow him to do that in a way that would satisfy his parents’ requirements. And finally, going to NYADA meant he would almost certainly run into Kurt regularly, if not every day. And while part of him ached to see Kurt as much as possible, under any circumstances he could, part of him said he needed to make a clean break and not see him at all. Ultimately, he told himself that a promise was a promise, and he could not betray his parents’ trust. So he turned down the offer to attend NYADA, instead opting to major in musical performance and finance at Columbia, with a minor in drama. He wondered if he wasn’t tempting fate or rubbing salt into his wounds by going to a university in the same city as Kurt, especially since he’d been accepted so many other places, places far away where he could get a new start, places where he wouldn’t run into Kurt or be tempted to see him. But he pushed the thought away and began to prepare for his new life in New York.

***

Kurt grabbed his bag and shuffled off the plane. Back in Ohio, again. His dad would be picking him up at baggage claim. He had promised Sam, Tina, and Artie that he would come back for graduation, but he was dreading it. Going to graduation meant seeing Blaine, and he really wasn’t sure he was up for that. Hopefully, he could just sit in the audience and call all his old friends later to tell them how great they looked and how proud he was of them.

He could always beg off because he was in town for another reason, too: Saturday was graduation, quickly followed by Finn and Rachel’s wedding Sunday afternoon. He would go directly to the airport from the reception. He knew he was invited only to avoid hurting his dad’s feelings, as neither Finn nor Rachel was speaking to him. Finn had refused to ask Rachel about the things Kurt had told him, still believing the best about her, and Rachel was furious that Kurt had divulged her secrets. She told him she wouldn’t lie to Finn, but saw no reason to bring anything up unless Finn chose to discuss it. Since both were angry with him, he had no official role in the wedding, but it was at least an excuse to try to avoid anything where he might have to face Blaine.

“Hey, Buddy!” His dad greeted him, tearing him from his thoughts. “Do you want to go straight home, or is there someone you want to see?”

“Good to see you, Dad,” Kurt said, “It’s late. Can we just go home? I’m really tired.”

“Tired? Or is there something else going on?” For someone who claimed to never understand what was going on with Kurt, his father had an uncanny ability to see through him.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Kurt attempted to deflect the question.

“Right. What’s going on with you and Blaine? Even after you two broke up, you stayed friends, did stuff together, you were close,” his dad got straight to the point.

You have no idea, Kurt thought.

“But since the last time you were home, you don’t talk about him or ask about him. Something happened the last time you were back, something that neither of you are willing to talk about, but I know he still cared, because he called the house, came by the shop once, asking about you, how you were. But all that stopped a month or two ago. It’s been radio silence since then. So I’m guessing that something else happened, something that made whatever happened last time you were home worse. Want to talk about it?” His dad continued.

“Dad, it’s history. Water under the bridge. Nothing can change what happened, and there’s nothing you or I or anyone else can do to fix it, so just let it go, okay?” Kurt didn’t want to talk about it with anyone, but especially not his dad. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done either time, and he knew that he’d let his dad down when Blaine came to New York, even if his dad didn’t know it.

“Uh-huh. Well, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. And you and I both know you’ll need to eventually,” his dad said. Kurt didn’t answer, and they spent the remainder of the drive in silence, with Kurt pretending to fall asleep to avoid revisiting the previous topic of conversation.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Kurt saw with a sinking feeling that Finn’s car was in the driveway and Rachel’s was parked on the street in front of the house. As he and his dad pulled his belongings from the car, they heard angry shouting coming from the house. Before they reached the door, Rachel stormed out and headed for her car, tears streaming down her face. “This is all your fault, Kurt! I hope you’re happy now. You got what you wanted!” She yelled at him as she rushed past.

Entering the house, they saw a clearly angry Finn standing in the entryway. “What was that all about?” Burt asked.

“The things Kurt told me, they just kept nagging at me. I just needed to know. So I asked. I even told her we’d get married no matter what, and I’d love the baby and raise it, but I have a right to know if I’m raising someone else’s kid. Don’t I?” Finn explained, starting to calm down.

“Of course you do,” Burt soothed.

“Well, when I asked she got all mad at me and started yelling and said that if I don’t trust her we can’t get married, and when I told her I did trust her, I just wanted to know, she admitted it. She was with someone else around the time she got pregnant, that man-whore she dated, as well as me, but she said the baby was mine because he was more ‘careful.’ And she said that the other thing was true too.” Finn told them.

“What other thing?” Burt knew about the baby, but not about Rachel’s plans if she’d gotten the part. Behind him, Kurt shook his head.

“It’s nothing. It’s not important now, it’s something she was thinking about but she didn’t do it and she won’t now.” Finn told him. Burt gave him an odd look, then turned to Kurt, who just gave his dad a puzzled look and thanked any deity that might exist that he was a good actor.

“So . . . Sunday?” Kurt inquired.

“Not going to happen. Well, Sunday is, just not the wedding,” Finn said.

Great, Kurt thought, that’s now three Finn and Rachel weddings cancelled. His next thought was a bit more self-centered: NOW what do I use as an excuse to avoid everyone? And on top of everything else, he was being blamed for the cancelled wedding, at least by the half of the couple who could have gotten a job as a town crier back in colonial times.

He was so wrapped up in these thoughts that he almost missed Finn’s next comment, delivered under his breath to prevent their parents from hearing him. “Kurt, thanks for trying to protect me. You were right. I’m sorry I doubted you, and I’m really sorry I yelled at you, and that I made things harder for you.” Kurt had never told Finn how awful the last couple of months had been, but apparently he was more perceptive than he looked; either that, or Santana had told him. Neither he nor Rachel could afford to move; just having Santana there had been a godsend from a financial standpoint. So even though they weren’t speaking and did their best to avoid one another, they continued to live together. From what he heard around school, their story wasn’t rare; whether best friends who had moved in together or strangers who had been matched by the college or something in between, it seemed that by the end of the year, everyone was on the outs with their roommate. But at least he had his brother back; that was something.

“I’m really tired. Do you mind if I just go up and go to bed?” Kurt asked. He thought it best not to acknowledge Finn’s comments, as doing so would just draw their parents’ attention to them, something he did not want to do.

“Sure, Bud, go ahead,” his dad said, looking mildly concerned.

“Let me help you with your stuff,” Finn said, grabbing the bags his dad had just put down. Finn followed him up the stairs, dropping everything just inside Kurt’s bedroom. “Thanks again, man,” he said as he turned to leave.

The door had no sooner closed behind him before Kurt’s phone began to ring. It was Tina. Kurt knew he could ignore her, but he also knew she was incredibly persistent. She’d just keep calling and calling until he answered if she really wanted to talk to him, and he’d be able to get her off the line pretty quickly if she didn’t. “Hello?” He answered the phone wondering how on earth she’d known when he was getting home. He hadn’t been in the house five minutes.

“Hey, Kurt. What are you doing right now? Sam and Artie and I were about to meet up at Breadstix for a little dessert and we wondered if you wanted to come,” she told him.

“Number one, who else is coming, and number two, do I have a choice?” Kurt inquired.

“No one, and not really. We’ll be by to pick you up in ten,” she said. Kurt was left staring at his phone as it went dead. Sighing, he went to fix his hair, then trudged back downstairs as he heard the doorbell ring.

“I thought you were going to bed,” his dad said in surprise.

“So did I,” Kurt answered tiredly. “Tina and company apparently had other ideas. They want to grab dessert, and there probably won’t be time tomorrow, so I’m going so I can see them for a bit before the graduation craziness.”

He opened the door and walked out to join Tina, Sam and Artie in Tina’s car. The drive to Breadstix was filled with chatter about the wedding. No one seemed to notice how quiet Kurt was. He guessed he could burst their bubble and tell them the wedding was called off, but it wasn’t really his story to tell. He was somewhat surprised that Rachel hadn’t already told everyone the news, complete with her assignment of blame. However, since she apparently hadn’t, he saw no need to bring it up and get involved in a discussion of what had happened. He didn’t even know if most of them knew why the wedding had been set to begin with. Kurt was just trying to hold onto the calm that preceded the storm that was sure to come.

They arrived at Breadstix. It was a Friday night, and the popular restaurant was crowded and noisy. They had to wait to be seated, and then it took several minutes to order, and then for their drinks and food to arrive. They filled the time with light-hearted discussions of summer plans and who was going to school where. Finally, the food arrived, and as Kurt took his first bite of cheesecake, he suddenly found three pairs of eyes focused on him. “What? Do I have food on my face? I usually manage more than one bite before I smear stuff on myself,” he said nervously, praying that smeared food was the reason for the interrogatory stares.

“What’s up with Blaine?” Sam broke the momentary silence that had met Kurt’s question.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kurt answered honestly. Everyone knew about the breakup last fall, although he doubted they all knew why they’d broken up, and while they’d remained friends until recently, as far as he knew everyone also knew they were no longer a couple. To the best of his knowledge, no one knew about the hook-ups that had occurred for most of the previous year on every trip home, or about the proposal. “Is something going on? We really haven’t talked much recently.” Way to go, Master of Understatement, he thought to himself.

Everyone else at the table just stared at him as if they couldn’t believe what he had just said. He was beginning to get decidedly uncomfortable. Finally, Sam, apparently the spokesman for the group, began to explain, “He’s been really different lately.”

Tina cut in, “He’s been really quiet, withdrawn. I mean, he still comes to Glee, does his job, so to speak. He helped us win nationals again this year. He puts on a smile and sings and dances and manages to fake the appropriate emotion for each song, but it’s an act. As soon as the song is over, any light, or joy, or happiness is gone. It’s been even worse since he went to New York to audition for NYADA.”

Sam took over again. “He’s my best friend, and he won’t talk to me. The more I try to get him to open up, the more withdrawn he gets.”

“Maybe he just needs some space,” Kurt tried.

“We tried that,” Artie said, finally joining the conversation. “At first, we thought it was the fact that you said no when he proposed –“

Kurt’s head jerked up in alarm. “Yeah, we know about that,” Sam interjected.

“Or maybe the stress of auditions,” Artie continued. “So we gave him space. But it keeps getting worse. He’s cut himself off from pretty much everyone.”

“He shows up to Glee, but he hardly ever says anything, rarely suggests anything. And when he does, it’s like he’s trying to channel heartbreak or disappointment or anger or depression or something,” Tina filled in.

“It probably is the stress of auditions,” Kurt confirmed, “I know when I was going through mine it was incredibly stressful.”

“I know it’s stressful, I’ve been going through it too,” Tina told him. Ouch. He’d forgotten she was going to try to go to a performing arts program too. He hadn’t even asked her about it. “But auditions were completed nearly a month ago, and like we said, it just keeps getting worse.”

“Waiting to hear back after the auditions is sometimes worse, at least it was for me. I mean, before the auditions it’s stressful, but there’s something to do. You prepare, you practice. And the audition itself could give anyone a heart attack. But afterwards, there’s nothing to do but wait and think about all the ways you screwed up and how you blew your only chance.” Kurt tried to rationalize what he was being told. “Especially NYADA. Until he hears how he did on that one, he’s going to be stressed. And he took a big risk: he didn’t do a song from a musical when he was auditioning for a musical theater school.” He decided not to tell them how he knew that particular piece of information.

“He’s heard back,” Tina said. Kurt looked at her, surprised. He and Rachel’s letters hadn’t come until the day of graduation. That meant that Blaine was either in the first round of applicants good enough to audition to be cut, or among the first accepted.

“That explains it,” Kurt said. “I know I was crushed when I didn’t get into NYADA. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, I mean, NYADA was my plan, my only plan. I didn’t apply anywhere else because I was certain that going there was the only way to accomplish my dreams, so when I didn’t get in, I had no idea what I was going to do. I thought I was going to be stuck here, in a town where no one accepts me, for the rest of my life.” Seeing the glare Tina shot his way, he amended, “Almost no one.”

“But he did get in,” she told him. Kurt was so shocked he almost dropped his fork. “He got into NYADA and almost everywhere else he applied. I can’t think of a school he applied to that didn’t admit him. He’s accepted an offer at Columbia.”

“Columbia?” Kurt was confused. If Blaine got into NYADA, why was he going to Columbia?

“Yeah. We were all surprised too,” Artie said.

“He says it’s because of some kind of promise he made to his parents, but I don’t think that’s really why he’s going there. I mean, maybe that’s part of it, but I don’t think that’s the real reason,” Sam told him.

Another thought occurred to Kurt, one that brought a lump to his throat for reasons he couldn’t fathom, given the fact that he was the one to break things off. “Boyfriend troubles?” He managed to choke out.

“To have a boyfriend, he’d have to let someone get close to him. Like I said, we’re best friends, but he won’t even talk to me. He’s closed himself off from everyone, locked us all out. It’s like he’s built all these walls, and no matter how much we try, no matter what we do, they just keep getting thicker and higher. There’s no way through them.” Sam said with a note of despair in his voice.

The conversation slowly turned to graduation, but Kurt really couldn’t remember any of it other than the parts about Blaine and NYADA. He just didn’t understand. He’d never heard of anyone who was admitted to NYADA who turned it down. Not even over money. There were scholarships and loans available, and a lot of people worked while attending school like he did, but even that shouldn’t be an issue for Blaine; his family had plenty of money for him to go to school wherever he wanted. All the way home, the issue nagged at him.

After Tina dropped him off, he headed to his room. His determination to avoid Blaine at all costs this weekend had turned into a resolve to find out what was going on. With the door closed, he sat on his bed and, finding Blaine’s contact information in his phone, he placed the call. He was somewhat surprised to hear Blaine’s voice answer, “Hello? Who is this?” That was odd. Not answering he expected. Not recognizing the number threw him a bit. Blaine must have deleted his contact information, and perhaps didn’t recognize it from the number alone.

“It, it’s Kurt,” Kurt told him.

“Why are you calling?” Blaine sighed. Kurt could practically hear him rubbing his eyes the way he did when he was tired or stressed. To be honest, it sounded like he was both.

“Um, I went out with Tina and Sam and Artie. They told me you got into NYADA,” Kurt tried.

“And?”

“And they told me you turned it down. Why? What happened? I mean, no one turns down NYADA.” Kurt persisted.

“Kurt, we all make choices and decisions. You made yours, and now I have to make mine. You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t want me in your life, and so now I have to make decisions based on what’s best for me, and after that, what’s best for my family. I can’t consider what you want or what you would do anymore,” Blaine told him sadly.

“But, NYADA,” Kurt persisted.

“Isn’t part of my future. I have to go now. Goodbye, Kurt.” Blaine disconnected the call.

Kurt stared at the phone, not even registering the tears that started running down his face. He felt like his life was over. Somehow, this felt worse than when he found out about the cheating, worse than turning down the proposal. Those were painful, but they felt like bumps in the road. This felt like the end.

* * *

Kurt tried calling several times the next day, but Blaine never answered. Kurt decided he’d just have to talk to him at graduation. Arriving early, he talked to most of the kids he knew from Glee Club, and a few of the teachers he liked, like Mr. Schue, but everyone could tell he was distracted. He didn’t maintain eye contact, instead searching the crowd constantly.

Suddenly, he heard Artie next to him, saying, “Don’t worry, he’ll be here. But he won’t come until the last minute, and he’ll leave right after it’s over. He won’t go to any of the graduation parties. From what we’ve heard, he asked his parents not to throw him one, and he’s turned down invitations not only to all the ones from his friends in Glee Club and his other activities, but the ones for the old Warblers as well. We checked when we got worried. He’s cutting them out too.”

Artie was right. Kurt had given up and taken his seat when he saw Blaine’s parents enter the auditorium. He still hadn’t seen Blaine, but if he’d ridden with his parents, he would barely have time to get backstage before the ceremony began. Sure enough, when Glee Club performed, there he was, leading them. Kurt’s heart broke, because even though the song was positive, he could tell that Blaine’s smile was only for show. It didn’t reach his eyes, and died before the last notes of the song rang through the room. He was one of the first students to receive his diploma, since he had one of the highest class ranks. Only Tina, the valedictorian, and Artie, the salutatorian, received theirs before him. He stood on the stage after receiving his diploma next to Artie, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. After all the other graduates were called, as everyone tossed their caps into the air, Blaine slipped behind the curtains.

Kurt saw Blaine’s parents rise and leave. He tried to follow, but from his position in the center of the row, it took him time to escape. By the time he reached the parking lot, they were in the car. He tried to run to them, but they were already moving. He ended up standing in the middle of the lot, staring at their taillights as they turned onto the street.

* * *

Sunday was odd. The early part of the day was spent fielding calls from people wondering why the wedding was cancelled. Kurt wanted to avoid most of the callers, but wanted to talk to Blaine if he called, so he took the bad with the potential good and left his phone on. His parents were stressed over the cancelled plans, and Finn was surly. Finally, he logged onto his computer and found out he could switch to an earlier flight without penalty; as a matter of fact, it had space and his original flight was oversold, so changing earned him a free flight voucher he could use later. He checked to make sure his dad could take him to the airport earlier, then changed his flight. Sure, he’d be crammed into a middle seat, but at this point, anything that got him out of Ohio sooner was a sacrifice he was willing to make. It was with a sigh of relief that he leaned his head against the seat back as the plane begin to taxi, willing his life to return to normal.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Kurt’s summer was spent cramming in as many hours as he could at Vogue.com in between the full load of classes he was taking. Most students at NYADA didn’t take summer school, instead either working to try to defray the steep tuition or trying desperately to find summer stock work, or anything else that could pad their resume. Since Kurt had missed the fall semester, having not been accepted until the Winter Showcase, he was a semester behind most of his classmates. Most didn’t see it as a big deal, since many took only the minimum classes required to maintain enrollment in case they got a part, or dropped out entirely once they began getting parts. As a matter of fact, NYADA had an absolutely horrible graduation rate for that reason, a fact that only made it more attractive to many students who saw it as proof that if you went to school there, you could make it on Broadway. However, it was a big deal to his father, who had only gone to junior college, and hadn’t finished after he lost his athletic scholarship following an injury, that Kurt finish school. He knew he would never drop out, because it meant so much to his dad that he finish. And since he wanted to get out and start his career as soon as possible, he wanted to catch up to his class. The summer classes were a big step in that direction. By fall, he’d be caught up in the arts classes, and only two academic classes behind. And as he no longer had a personal life to speak of, work and school provided a welcome distraction.

Rachel’s treatment of him eventually thawed from the Arctic freeze she had been directing his way to being merely cool towards him. Strangely enough, Santana was the mediator between the two of them. As Rachel’s pregnancy progressed, she eventually began to treat him as a friend again. Although Kurt suspected she wanted something from him, he decided to be oblivious to the fact and simply welcome the fact that he was on generally good terms with both of his roommates.

He and Adam eventually settled back into their previous routine, going out occasionally. Between work and school for Kurt and working as a waiter and bit parts in off-off-Broadway productions for Adam, neither of them had much time. When they did manage to get together, Kurt tried to avoid physical contact and Adam hoped for more, but didn’t push. The last time he got more, it had nearly destroyed everything, although he still wasn’t sure why; Kurt never talked to him about it, so he was unsure why Kurt had allowed, no demanded, more, nor what had gone wrong. It was an odd dance, but one both participants willingly continued.

* * *

Blaine spent the summer preparing to move to New York. He got his housing packet, which contained information about dorms and meal plans. It would be an adjustment. At home he’d always had his own room, and at Dalton he had lived in a private room. Now he would have a roommate for the first time in his life, and it would be someone he had never met before they moved in together. He carefully filled out all the information so the school could make the best match they could. He wondered briefly whether he should mention that he was gay, so the school could make certain that they didn’t place him with someone who was homophobic, but finally decided it would only complicate matters, since he doubted anyone would willingly list that they hated gay people on their housing form. He emphasized his love of music and theater, and his plan to be a serious student, and then mailed the form off and hoped for the best.

He spent time deciding what to take to New York and what to leave. He thought carefully about what he would need every day for classes, as well as for both formal and informal performances, and wondered how he would fit everything he needed into half of a dorm room. He needed his guitar, violin, cello, mandolin, and harmonica; although it broke his heart, he knew he would have to leave behind his grand piano and drum kit. Longingly he looked at his electric piano, but finally decided it would be left behind too, with all practice being relegated to the music department’s pianos when he could reserve them. He would bring it up for the spring semester if he thought he could fit it in the room. He looked for things that would make the room more homelike, but most of the pictures and things he thought of bringing reminded him of Kurt. Eventually, he settled on just pictures of himself with his parents and Cooper, and an old quilt that had belonged to his great-grandmother. Text books and school supplies he would buy in New York, along with dorm bedding. Other than his instruments, everything he was taking fit into two large suitcases and his messenger bag.

Finally the day arrived. He and his parents flew to New York, and they helped him move his belongings into the dorm. He was grateful for the help, since moving both the suitcases and the instruments by himself would have been a logistical nightmare. Upon arriving, he met his roommate for the first time. 

The tall, blonde young man introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Brendan,” in a pronounced southern accent.

“Blaine,” Blaine told him. The two continued to exchange pleasantries as Blaine’s parents helped him move his things into his half of the room, with Brendan even helping a bit. Blaine was pleasantly surprised at how well this was seeming to go. 

Once his things were all in, Blaine and his parents walked around campus for a bit, enjoying the feeling of the quiet academic oasis in the middle of New York City, and then went to dinner before he headed back to his room and his parents to their hotel. They had originally planned to have breakfast together the next day, but a business matter had arisen and his father had to fly to a client’s Los Angeles office early the next day, and his mother was accompanying him so she could see Cooper. It was nothing Blaine wasn’t used to.

Once he returned to his dorm, he started putting his things away. Brendan came in a short while later, presumably from dinner. “So, now that the parents are gone, let’s really talk,” he said. Blaine became a little nervous. “Do you have a girlfriend, and if so, is she here?”

“Um, no. I don’t have a girlfriend,” Blaine answered. He wondered if he should tell his roommate he was gay, or wait until they knew each other better.

“Are you interested in having one?” The other boy continued his interrogation.

“Right now, I’m pretty focused on school,” he said, still not sure how his roommate would react to the fact that he was gay.

Brendan laughed. “You know, your parents aren’t here,” he said, then at Blaine’s puzzled look he said, “Oh my God, you’re serious. Wow. Um, I don’t really know what to say to that.”

“The information the school sent me about you said you were pretty focused on academics too, and that you liked music,” Blaine told him, a little confused.

“Right. Everyone says they’re focused on academics and plan to study all the time on their forms, because our parents might look at them. Yes, I’m an engineering major, because my parents want me to be and I’m really good at math, so the more math focused my degree, the less I have to work. My parents told me to put the music thing because I sang in church, which I did in part because they wanted me to, and in part because the preacher’s daughter was in the choir too and she was really hot. This is the first time I’ve been out from under their thumb, and I plan on getting all the ass I can. How about you?” Brendan said.

Blaine’s first thought was that Brendan was pretty good looking, and that he’d probably be pretty successful in achieving his goal, provided he wasn’t honest about what it was. His second was that he might have a duty to warn the freshman co-eds. His third was that this might not be the ideal roommate match he’d thought when he had initially gotten Brendan’s information. Finally, he got around to thinking about how to answer Brendan’s question. “I was in a relationship, and it was pretty serious. I thought we were soul mates. But he was a year older than I was,” Blaine began, then inwardly winced when he realized he’d said the word he to describe Kurt; oh well, at least now it was out in the open. He continued, “And when he moved away last year, he didn’t have as much time for me. I thought he’d moved on and I did something really stupid, and when I told him we broke up. I kept trying to get us back together, but it didn’t really work. Finally, I proposed, and he turned me down. The next time I saw him he clearly had moved on, and made sure I knew just how far. So now, I really don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone. I really do just want to focus on school and music, and since I’m double majoring in music performance and finance, with a minor in drama, and considering a minor in English, I don’t think I’ve have time for much of a personal life, which is just as well, since I can’t seem to get it right.”

“Sorry about what happened, man. So, you’re gay?” Brendan said.

“Yes. Is that a problem for you?” Blaine responded.

“No. It might be for my parents, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them. You’re just the first gay person I’ve ever met.” Brendan told him.

“I’m probably not. Some people estimate that as many as one in ten people are gay,” Blaine said.

“Hmm. Well, I don’t know about that, but you’re the first person I’ve ever met that admitted it. It doesn’t bother me, really, as long as you respect the fact that I’m straight,” Brendan said.

“Well,” Blaine said with relief, “it looks like we won’t have any problems.”

“Yeah. And I don’t have to worry about my roomie stealing my girlfriends!” Brendan said. Blaine cringed a little at the use of the plural. He hoped Brendan planned on having only one at a time. He was snapped back to the conversation by Brendan’s explanation of how he would signal Blaine that he had a girl in the room and he should stay out. Then he generously told Blaine that should he change his mind and decide to try his hand at a relationship again, he could use the same system.

Classes began a few days later, and Blaine dove into them. He was taking the maximum number of hours permitted by the university, so he was buried in work. Unlike NYADA, at Columbia, academics were taken extremely seriously, and the rigor reminded him of his days at Dalton. However, returning to his dorm, planning a night of pizza delivery, practice and study, only to find a tie on the door again always snapped him back to reality. This was definitely not Dalton. He found himself wondering Thursday night as he fell asleep in the dorm’s student lounge for the third time in the first week of school just how Brendan was keeping up with his classes, given his devoted pursuit of his extracurricular activities. 

The next morning he was awoken by the ringing of his phone, the screen telling him it was almost dead since he had been unable to charge it. Trying to stretch the stiffness from his back and neck, he answered, “Hey, Santana. What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t have to be at work until three, I don’t have any classes today, and I’m broke. Want to buy me some coffee?” She said. She sounded way too cheerful, but Blaine realized that might just be his bad mood, brought on by sleeping half sitting on a couch that had definitely seen better days. Looking at the phone, he realized he had time, since his Friday morning lab didn’t meet until the second week of school.

“Um, sure. Let me get dressed. I can meet you in forty-five minutes, okay?” He answered.

“Make it thirty,” she chirped, reeling off an address before hanging up.

Blaine crept back to his room. Damn. The tie was still on the door. Most of the time the girl (girls? He wasn’t sure if there was one or more than one) left before morning. He let himself in anyway. If Brendan was embarrassed it served him right. He tried not to see Brendan and the red-headed girl he was entwined with, the comforter only partially covering them, as he made his way to the bathroom. He took a quick shower and brushed his teeth, wondering what three nights of missing dental hygiene were doing to them, pulling on the clean clothes he’d gathered on the way to the bathroom. Leaving, he saw that Brendan and his date (or was she a girlfriend?) hadn’t moved. He made his way out quietly, wondering how to broach the subject of wanting to sleep in his own room with his roommate.

He continued to ponder the subject on the way to the coffee shop Santana had named, brought out of his reverie only when he heard her exclaim, “Good God, Hobbit, you look like shit!”

“Thanks, Santana,” he replied dryly. 

“Come on, tell Auntie Tana all about it. Is there a snake in your little academic garden of Eden?” She pushed.

“Yeah. His name is Brendan.” Blaine answered as they moved to the front of the line. They both ordered, and then Santana continued her interrogation.

“Ooh. You have a new man?”

“No. He’s my roommate, and he’s very straight,” Blaine told her.

“Has a problem with you being gay?” She guessed.

“No, but he is determined to sleep with every woman between the ages of seventeen and seventy who sets foot on the Columbia campus, and he’s well on his way. I’ve fallen asleep in the lounge three times this week waiting for his dates to leave, and this last one was still there when you called. Usually the tie is off the door by morning.” Blaine said.

“Tie?” She asked as they took their coffee.

“When he has a girl in there he hangs a tie on the doorknob. He told his parents he was bringing them so he could dress nicely for church.” He explained. She snickered.

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I’ve tried. I barely see him, since we don’t have any classes together and the only time he’s in the room he’s got a girl with him. I don’t know if he even goes to class, but I guess he does because I think that’s where he finds the girls. I’ve also talked to the RA. He sympathized, but told me that there are no vacant dorm spaces, so the earliest I’ll be able to move is next semester, and there’s not really a good chance even then. It’ll probably be next year, assuming I don’t flunk out given the fact that I can’t get my instruments out of my room to practice half the time and I’m getting absolutely no decent sleep.” He replied.

“Why don’t you just move out?” She asked.

“I can’t. Columbia University students are required to live on campus the first year. Almost all of them live on campus at least four years, or until they finish their bachelor’s degrees,” he sighed, starting to feel hopeless.

“Do they do room checks?”

“Obviously not. I’m not sure if they’re supposed to, but they either don’t or don’t care who sleeps where,” Blaine told her.

“Then why not crash at our place? I mean, you’ll have to deal with Berry being all hormonal, and you’ll be on the floor next to my couch, but if you can deal with that, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to at least get a good night’s sleep,” she offered. He was surprised by the generosity. He had heard about Rachel’s pregnancy through the Glee grapevine; just because he didn’t participate didn’t mean he didn’t listen, and the conditions of the offer were the same as last time, but there was one big issue.

Addressing the elephant in the room, he said, “I don’t really think that’s a good idea. Remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah. Neither Berry nor I know what that was about. Kurt won’t talk about it. He’d been seeing Adam off and on, but it never seemed that serious. Then when you were there, suddenly he sleeps with him, and then the next thing you know, they aren’t seeing each other at all. No fight, no argument, no breakup. Just a casual relationship to sex to no relationship within about twenty four hours. They’ve been going out again, but even less than last time, so it should be okay,” she told him.

“Thanks, Santana. I’ll consider it. I really need to sleep if I’m going to do well in my classes. I can usually study in the library, and practice in the music department, sometimes I can even borrow a guitar or violin or cello to practice those as well as piano and drums, but sleeping in the lounge is pretty bad,” he mused.

“Great. There’s a shop a block down that makes keys. After we finish here I’ll make you a copy, and you can just come and go as you want,” she said. And so Blaine found himself taking the subway back to campus with a freshly minted apartment key in his pocket.

* * *

Two weeks later, Blaine was desperate for a single decent night’s sleep. He’d managed to corner Brendan to talk about the situation, but he wasn’t budging. As far as he was concerned, the room was on a first come, first served basis: if you got there first, alone or not, you could sleep there or do whatever you wanted. If, however, you were the second one to the party, you had rights to the room only if the first occupant didn’t have company. The RA continued to be sympathetic but unhelpful. And since talking to Santana he’d managed to make it to the room first only two or three times; long hours of practice in the music department worked against him in his attempts, meaning he often arrived at the dorm late, only to find the tie on the door. It was Thursday, Brendan was “busy” in their room again, his lab was meeting in the morning, and he was too tired to prepare for it; he’d have to get up early to do it, but that assumed he could sleep to begin with. His desires not to impose and to avoid Kurt were officially overwhelmed by exhaustion; he turned on his heel and left the dorm, grabbing the subway to get close to the apartment.

He was greeted by understanding looks from both Santana and a very pregnant Rachel, who had clearly been filled in on the situation. “Hey, you can sleep with me if you want. The bed’s big enough, at least I think it still is,” Rachel offered, looking ruefully at her belly, “and you can change in the bathroom.”

“Um, really, I can’t,” Blaine told her, blushing. “I wasn’t able to get clothes. I’m hoping to get back to the dorm early enough to get changed in the morning. Otherwise, I’ll be going to class in the same thing I’m wearing now.”

“I think I have some things you can borrow,” she said, disappearing into her bedroom. She returned with a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. He didn’t really want to ask whose, he just hoped they were clean.

“Thanks,” he told her. He took them to the bathroom. As he began to put them on, the scents of detergent and fabric softener told him they were indeed clean, and the fact that the legs of the pants went far beyond the ends of his feet and he had to tie the drawstring just to keep them around his waist told him they were Finn’s. Thank God, he thought with relief as he rolled up the legs so he could walk without tripping. He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste he bought at a drugstore he had passed on the walk from the subway station. 

He entered Rachel’s bedroom to find her dressed for bed. It wasn’t really all that late, but she said the pregnancy made her tired, and he was exhausted from too many nights spent on the couch in the lounge. They settled into the bed back to back and he was already beginning to drop off when he heard Rachel ask him to get her a glass of water. 

He got up to do the favor, only half processing her explanation of why it was important to stay hydrated during pregnancy, which was how he found himself standing in the kitchen when Kurt came in with Adam. Kurt’s eyes narrowed and he didn’t say anything but half dragged Adam to his room. Blaine met Santana’s eyes. She shrugged. Blaine decided Kurt’s life was his own and Blaine was too tired to care what he did with it. He returned to Rachel’s room, handed her the water, got back into bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

In the morning, he was up early, heading home to shower and change before preparing for his lab. He barely remembered the events of the previous evening, and could just about write it off to an exhaustion fueled flashback.

Soon a routine was established. Blaine slept badly in his dorm’s student lounge more often than not, only managing a night or two each week, maybe three if he was really lucky, in his own bed. Once every week or two, he would get desperate enough to use his key to the apartment, where he now kept a toothbrush, a razor, a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes. On those occasions, if Kurt came in alone, he went to his room and stayed there. If he was with Adam, he drug Adam in with him. It felt like a blow to Blaine’s heart every time it happened, but exhaustion and the knowledge that if he had had faith, had been faithful, they would still be together, kept Blaine from saying anything. He tried to tell himself each time that it didn’t matter; what Kurt did or didn’t do didn’t affect him, but the truth was that it did.

* * *

Adam wasn’t stupid. It didn’t take him long to figure out that Kurt was a good friend, but that’s really as far as Kurt wanted to take things. He knew Kurt spent a lot of each evening they spent together with his mind only half on the activity at hand, the rest of his focus on how to avoid kissing Adam or engaging in physical contact while trying to make Adam think he wasn’t pushing him away. He was also quick to figure out who Blaine was, and make the connection that on the nights when he and Kurt arrived at the apartment to find Blaine there, Kurt would insist on sex. As much as Adam tried to convince himself they were making love, he knew it was just sex. He knew it wouldn’t have happened if Blaine wasn’t there. He wasn’t sure if Kurt was trying to hurt Blaine, or prove to Blaine that he was over him, or prove it to himself. But he knew, deep down inside, that the truth was that Kurt wasn’t over Blaine, and even he could see it. He supposed if he had any self-respect, any dignity, he would simply walk away. But he was in love with Kurt, even if Kurt wasn’t in love with him. And he kept hoping that eventually, if he could keep it going long enough, he could make it true: Kurt would be over Blaine, and he would fall in love with Adam, the way Adam had fallen in love with him.

* * *

Kurt knew what he was doing wasn’t right. He knew he was hurting Blaine, kept hurting him far beyond what was reasonable; it was far past anything he could rationalize. Although he hated to admit it, he was hurting Adam, too. He couldn’t see a future for himself that had Adam in it. Nothing beyond friendship with him felt right, and every time they went beyond that he felt indescribably dirty for days afterward. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He couldn’t bring himself to break it off with Adam, or to admit to him that all he really wanted was to just be friends; he was afraid he’d ruined that, anyway, and that it was no longer a possibility. He knew he was letting his father down, using someone the way his father was afraid he would be used, each time as well. And most of all, he knew, deep inside, that he was hurting, maybe even punishing, himself.

* * *

In early November, the call came from Santana. Rachel was in labor. She and Blaine had never discussed it, but Santana told him she wanted Blaine to be there, at least in the hospital if not in the room. They had truly become friends over the last few months, with no jealousy or competition to get in the way. And so Blaine sent off a quick e-mail to his professors, explaining that a good friend was having a baby and needed him to be with her (and that no, he was in no way related to the child about to arrive), and went to the hospital. After being directed to labor and delivery, he was given the number of a birthing room; it was there, outside Rachel’s room, that he ran into Kurt. It was an uncomfortable encounter for them both. They glanced away from each other’s eyes and muttered apologies and excuses before Blaine went in to see Rachel and Kurt continued on his original mission, calling Finn to let him know that Rachel was in labor. Shortly after Blaine arrived, Rachel demanded an epidural. Once it was administered, she drifted off to sleep, waking only when a staff member came in to check on her. Blaine and Kurt passed the time ignoring each other while having separate conversations with Santana, each occasionally making snide comments directed at the other as if they weren’t both in the room. Once the midwife announced that Rachel was ready to deliver, the tension rose; neither man was ready for this, and the stress combined with the forced proximity became overwhelming. Santana ordered them both out of the room for the delivery, deciding that, as she put it, “One baby is enough to deal with.” A short time later, both men found themselves staring into a tiny red face, being told that his name was Stephen, in honor of Stephen Sondheim. Animosity temporarily forgotten, they agreed that he was beautiful.

* * *

With the excitement of the birth, a bit earlier than expected, Blaine forgot to tell them his news. A few days earlier, he had been approached by a girl, a pretty upperclassman with a cast on her arm. She was also a music major, and Blaine’s reputation for talent and versatility had spread quickly. In addition to being a student, she was the keyboardist for a band, primarily comprised of other music students. Unfortunately, while riding her bike to class one recent morning, she had hit a patch of ice during the early freeze that had hit New York the previous week, breaking her arm in the resulting wipeout. The band had regular gigs booked and needed to replace her on keyboard immediately, but the replacement had to be someone who had a broad musical repertoire and was a quick study. The grapevine had told them that Blaine was a likely candidate. After an audition and an interview with the other members, he was invited to join the band until the regular keyboardist was cleared to return. Although difficult to manage with his class load, the job had a lot of perks: a little extra pocket money, professional experience to put on his resume, exposure to the New York music scene as a professional rather than just a fan, a chance to sing and play for an audience, and, best of all, an open invitation to crash on the floor of the dorm room shared by the lead guitarist and bassist, both of whom had experienced roommates similar to Brendan and both of whom were focused on graduating before running out of money. Therefore, it seemed to Rachel, Kurt and Santana that Blaine disappeared without explanation after Stephen was born.

The reality was that he didn’t mean to disappear or to cut them out. It was just that with the new job he was even busier than he had been before, and the other dorm was right next to his, on campus, and much more convenient. He more or less just moved in with Rob and Mike, the band members who had invited him to use their floor. As a result, he was getting a lot more sleep, was much less stressed, and could access his things whenever he needed to. The arrangement had the added bonus of being able to discuss set lists, potential numbers, gigs, and other band related matters with the other members at any time. For the first time since moving to New York, he was truly enjoying himself.

He was almost surprised when Rachel called him to have coffee a few weeks later, but he jumped at the chance. He breezed into the coffee shop that afternoon, giving Rachel and Santana hugs and cooing over Stephen. As they gave their order, he turned to Rachel. “Decaf, right?”

“Eew, no,” she replied. At his raised eyebrows she explained, “I’m not nursing. I’m not about to let him destroy my body any more than he already has, and given the fact that he’s up at all hours, I need all the caffeine I can get.” Blaine kept his thoughts about this to himself, but it suddenly registered that Santana, not Rachel, was pushing the stroller, and Santana seemed more focused on the baby than his mother did. 

Once they were at the table, Rachel said, “So, tell us everything that’s happening outside the world of baby spit-up.” Blaine filled them in about the band, and told them about their upcoming gigs, eliciting excited squeals and promises to come see him. 

In turn, they told about what was going on in their lives. Santana was still a go-go dancer of sorts at a lesbian club, and officially a waitress at one of the nicer gay bars, although she was the de facto manager, subbing in for the actual manager who had a substance abuse problem, since no one else was willing to do so. Her ability and willingness to run a successful high-end gay bar didn’t surprise Blaine, and he’d long ago gotten over the fact that she had jobs in two establishments that she was too young to legally enter. She was also starting to take community college classes, thinking about applying to a four-year university; when asked if her focus would be voice, dance, or theatre, she smiled and replied, “Management.”

Rachel told him she was cleared to resume classes the next week, and was giving private voice and acting lessons to a local high school girl with her sights set on NYADA in exchange for babysitting. She was also trading academic tutoring for babysitting with some NYADA students. Between those two things and relying on Kurt and Santana, she would be able to resume her full class load and make up for the time she had missed before next semester’s classes began, so she wouldn’t have to repeat a semester. Against doctor’s orders, she had also resumed rehearsals as the understudy for Fanny Brice in Funny Girl. Blaine thought Stephen was spending more time with babysitters than with his mother, but he thought it best to say nothing on the point. 

Rachel also filled him in about the DNA testing that had been done in the hospital. The results were due back next week. Finn had submitted a sample for comparison, and assuming the results were what Rachel thought they would be, she and Finn would be getting married at the beginning of the winter break. Finn had tentatively applied to a few colleges in New York, and was hoping to begin classes there in January. They would continue to live with Kurt and Santana until they could afford a place of their own.

Attempting to be polite, Blaine asked, “How’s Kurt doing?”

“Okay,” Santana replied as she picked up Stephen, who had started to fuss. “He’s busy. He’s taking a full class load, still working pretty insane hours at Vogue.com, and he’s picking up a few shifts as a waiter at the bar where I work, and some at a restaurant near NYADA.” At Blaine’s raised eyebrows, she continued, “I think he’s trying to take some of the load off his parents. I mean, Finn works at the shop right now when he’s not taking classes, and I think Kurt feels a little guilty about not contributing to the shop and his dad paying for his school, even though it’s a lot more feasible now that he’s in Congress too.”

Rachel cut in, saying, “He still hangs out with Adam sometimes, but not as much. I’m pretty sure they’re just friends.”

“Last time I saw them, I wouldn’t call what they were doing ‘hanging out,’” Blaine said cuttingly, “And I’m pretty sure they’re more than just friends.”

“The funny thing about that, though,” Santana said, “is that he never acts like that with Adam except around you. The rest of the time there’s less PDA, hell, less friendship, than between you and Sam.”

“You do know that I briefly had a small crush on Sam, right?”

“Yeah,” Rachel answered, “But you never acted on it, right? It was all one-sided, as I understand it.”

“Yeah, it was. I knew he was straight, so even though I was attracted to him, I knew nothing would ever happen. He even figured it out, and we were best friends by that time. We talked about it. He really didn’t have a problem with it as long as I respected his boundaries. Even after he knew, and we discussed it, he was still fine with the same kind of physical contact we’d always had, well once we became friends after he moved back: hugging when one of us needed it or we were excited or celebrating, dancing together in numbers, that kind of thing,” Blaine told her.

Rachel began to explain, “Exactly. The only time they touch is when you’re around. The rest of the time, you can tell that Adam wants to, you can see it in his eyes, but Kurt isn’t interested and Adam won’t push him. When you’re around, though, not only are there excessive PDA’s and more, Kurt initiates them. It’s weird.”

Blaine couldn’t help himself. “What on earth is he doing?”

“I have no idea. It’s like he’s a different person,” Rachel replied.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Santana said with a mysterious look.

“Care to explain?” Blaine inquired.

“No. Not unless I find out I’m right. Maybe not even then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to post a second update this week, as I think I'm going to shift to updating on Fridays instead of Mondays.
> 
> I'd really love to know what you think so far, so please leave comments and reviews! Thanks so much in advance.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

A week after Thanksgiving, Blaine was preparing for a gig, joking and laughing with the other band members in a back room of the under twenty-one club where they played each Friday night. A few minutes before they were due to start their first set a waitress poked her head in, asking what they wanted up on stage to drink. After taking orders for six bottles of water, she started to leave then, turned back and said, “Oh, Blaine, there’s a couple of girls out here who said they’re friends of yours. They wanted to know if you had a minute before you started.”

Blaine went out to find Rachel and Santana seated at a table near the stage, to the side where his keyboards were set up. They exchanged quick hugs and both slipped him napkins with requests. He took them with a laugh and promised to try to work them into the sets. As he made his way backstage, he wondered how Rachel would handle sitting and watching a performance she couldn’t participate in; it should be interesting. 

Kurt told Adam that they needed to meet Rachel and Santana at an under twenty-one club. They had begged him to go with them, and it had been so long since they’d all gone out together. He didn’t ask if it was okay to bring Adam. They hadn’t seen each other all week because of work and school, and Adam really wanted to be with him, so he just combined his plans with the girls and Adam’s desire to go out. They found the girls in the crowded club, and Kurt wondered at the strange look they gave Adam. True, he didn’t usually hang out with Adam with them, but it wasn’t really that odd to bring Adam along, was it? Just as they reached the table, one of the club employees announced the band.

“I heard this band is really good!” Rachel gushed. Okay, Rachel was enthusiastic about a musical act that didn’t involve a legendary performer or herself; a little out of character, but not too weird. Kurt wondered why everything just felt so strange. The band ran up onstage, and he looked up and locked eyes with the keyboard player. And then he knew. Throwing a bitch-glare at Rachel and Santana, he grabbed Adam’s hand with one hand, and placed the other on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a deep, dirty kiss.

Blaine’s eyes narrowed, and he quickly turned and murmured something to the other band members. They nodded their assent, and Blaine took his mic off its stand and moved to center stage. The song didn’t need piano or keyboards, so the rest of the band would back him. The guitars began to play softly, slowly, behind him, and he began to sing.

Well it’s over and gone  
Babe tell me the truth  
Don’t try to lie about it  
Someone else has been with you  
Judas couldn’t hide it  
Any better than this  
The secret’s out darling  
Betrayed by a kiss

Well it’s right here with us baby  
Though it really can’t be seen  
It’s the smell of his seduction  
And it makes it hard to breathe  
A tender touch can hit you  
So much harder than a fist  
Not a single word was spoken  
You’ve been betrayed by a kiss

Where did we go wrong  
Blow the candle out  
How’d a love so strong  
Learn to fill a house with doubts  
How long have I been so blind  
And been the odd man out

Now the truth is so hard  
We choose to lie  
Shout out our denials  
Till the tear ducts have run dry  
No one’s there to cover up  
The last track that you missed  
It’s an intimate moment  
To be betrayed by a kiss

Tender lips can hit you  
So much harder than a fist  
It’s a damnable heartbreak  
To be betrayed by a kiss 

The hurt was evident in Blaine’s voice throughout the song, and as it ended he said to the applauding audience, “Thank you so much. If you’ll just indulge me for a few minutes longer, I have one other special song I’d like to do, and then we’ll pick it up a bit and get you dancing.” He moved back to his keyboard, placed his mic in its stand, and began to play.

Getting up late  
Working all day  
An occasional date  
Everything is okay  
But up in the attic  
Something’s undone  
It’s like static in the stereo on my favorite song

You’re a stone in my shoe  
Just a stone in my shoe  
And I keep walking ‘round  
Going through the motions  
Looking for an ocean  
So I can throw away this stone in my shoe

Closing the bar  
With a bunch of old friends  
Then home in the car  
Scotch in the den  
Flipping through photos  
Watching memories fly  
A Polaroid flash that’s burned in the edge of my eye

You’re a stone in my shoe  
Just a stone in my shoe  
And I keep walking ‘round  
Going through the motions  
Looking for an ocean  
So I can throw away this stone in my shoe

I’ll be walking along  
Humming a tune  
When a scent or a song  
Or the sight of the moon  
Opens the wound  
At the tear of a stitch  
And pretty soon my heart starts to twitch

You’re a stone in my shoe  
Just a stone in my shoe  
And I keep walking ‘round  
Going through the motions  
Looking for an ocean  
So I can throw away this stone in my shoe

Working all day  
Laughing at jokes  
Paying the bills  
Visiting folks  
There’s a dull ache  
A tear in my eye  
Living everyday like there was something I  
Forgot to do  
It’s like a stone in my shoe  
Did I turn off the stove  
Did I put out the cat  
Oh, no, it’s something much bigger than that  
It’s like a stone in my shoe  
Talking ‘bout you, babe  
You’re a stone in my shoe 

As the song finished, Blaine dropped his head for a moment and blinked back tears. Kurt hadn’t left while he was singing, and so now he probably had a pretty good idea how Blaine felt. He took a deep, shuddering breath. He couldn’t fall apart on stage. In the last month, he’d become the band’s de facto front man, and had been offered a permanent position even after Ann came back. He had to pull it together and give everyone a show.

Mike walked up to the center mic and shouted, “Okay, people! On the dance floor! Let’s get this party started!” The band began to play the opening to Raise Your Glass. Blaine took a deep breath and began to sing again.

The rest of the evening went well. Blaine tried very hard to ignore Kurt and Adam, who spent much of the evening dancing. At least they danced to the fast songs. Whenever the band began a slow song, Kurt would lead the way off the dance floor and take the time to get a drink or check in with Rachel and Santana. Blaine was thankful that their dancing seemed fairly innocent, with a minimum of grinding, unlike many of the other couples on the floor. During a set break around eleven o’clock, Rachel and Santana told him goodnight; Rachel’s babysitter had a midnight curfew, and their apartment wasn’t close, so they needed to leave. Kurt and Adam left shortly before midnight, and Blaine relaxed for the first time all evening.

* * *

Kurt and Adam boarded the subway on the way back to the apartment Kurt shared with the girls and the baby. Kurt never wanted to go to Adam’s apartment, so he wasn’t surprised when Kurt turned down his offer to go to his own much closer apartment. He was glad that Kurt let him accompany him to his apartment, instead of going home alone; he knew it was silly of him, but he was protective and Kurt still looked fragile to him, despite the muscles he had developed lifting girls in dance classes. And somehow, tonight, he looked even more fragile and vulnerable than usual. Adam had no idea what to expect. Until Rachel had had her baby, seeing Blaine at the apartment meant there would be sex, but Blaine hadn’t been around since then. He didn’t know if it was the constantly squalling infant that kept him away or some other reason, but Adam was starting to miss him, if only because it meant that Kurt maintained the distance between them. He didn’t know whether or not seeing Blaine performing at the club tonight would have the same effect as Blaine being at the apartment, but he hoped so. Once they arrived at the apartment, Kurt paused at the door, seeming to war with himself for a moment, before inviting Adam in. Hope surged in Adam’s heart; usually, if there was no sign of Blaine, Kurt told him goodbye standing in the doorway.

“Come here,” Kurt told him, walking slowly to the couch. “Sit.”

Adam sat, a feeling of trepidation beginning to creep over him.

Kurt began to talk. “Look, Adam, I don’t want to hurt you, but this isn’t working. I think we both know it, we’ve both known it for a while. And if we keep trying to make something out of nothing, we’re just going to end up hurting each other.”

“But, Kurt, we enjoy spending time together, enjoy doing things together,” Adam protested.

“Adam, you’re a great friend. And I do like spending time with you and doing things with you. But I don’t have romantic feelings for you. I think you know it, too. And you wanting me to have those feelings for you, even me wishing I could feel that way about you, doesn’t make it happen. I’m not saying we can’t still be friends, or that we can’t still do things together. I hope we can. But that’s all we’re ever going to have. Do you understand?” Kurt said.

“No,” Adam shook his head, “Kurt, we can back off the romantic stuff for a while, promise not to make love for a while, let’s just give it a little time.”

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not going to work. I’m going to bed. You can stay here as long as you need to.”

Adam stayed on the couch, shell-shocked and confused, until Santana came out of Rachel’s room, where she had been helping Rachel to get the baby back to sleep. Looking up at her with a bewildered expression, he said, “Kurt broke up with me. I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did wrong. He promised me he was over Blaine, promised me that I wouldn’t be the rebound. And now-“

Santana looked at him with sympathy. “Let Auntie Tana explain it to you, because this is right up my alley; actually, it’s my specialty.” At Adam’s desperate nod, she continued, “First of all, you and Kurt, it was never really going to happen, because there’s only ever been one person in this world for Kurt, and that’s Blaine, and there’s only been one person for Blaine, and that’s Kurt. They were always meant to find each other and be together. And Kurt may have told you that he was over Blaine, Hell, he might have even convinced himself there for a while. But he was never even close to over him. And, just like he promised you, you were never the rebound. You were the revenge.” 

As she spoke, she pulled him from the couch, gently directing him to the door. “Now go home, go to bed, and get up tomorrow ready to look for someone who can love you, because Kurt isn’t that person; he never was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song Blaine sings at his gig is The Kiss by Radney Foster, from the album See What You Want To See; the second is Stone in my Shoe by Don Henry from the album Flowers and Rockets. Each song has had one word changed to make it appropriate to sing to a man.
> 
> Please, please leave comments. Let me know what you think of the story so far! Thanks so much in advance, and thank you for sticking with this story.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The next morning was Saturday. Kurt waited until late morning before placing the call that he was both dreading and looking forward to all at the same time. He borrowed Santana’s phone, as he wasn’t sure the call would be answered if his number came up on the caller ID. As soon as he heard the call answered, he started talking. “It’s Kurt. Please don’t hang up. I just wanted to ask if we could meet, for coffee or lunch maybe, and talk. It’s important. Please.”

Blaine rubbed his eyes and sighed, “I don’t know if that’s really a good idea. I don’t know what we have to talk about.” Yes, he was still in love with Kurt, but Kurt didn’t have to know that. Okay, after last night, he probably had a pretty good idea, but it didn’t have to be spelled out explicitly. Except that Blaine was afraid that if they met as Kurt had proposed, he would make a fool of himself by babbling about how much he still loved Kurt, only to have his heart broken again. And he wasn’t sure he could live through that. Last night had been bad enough.

“Please,” Kurt begged, “I’m not asking for any commitments, just a conversation. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. Just listen, please. After that, if you don’t want to see me again or talk to me anymore I’ll go away and not bother you anymore.” In desperation, he added, “I broke up with Adam.” He didn’t know if that would make any difference, and if it did, if it would make things better or worse, but he had to take the chance.

“I don’t have to talk, just listen?” Blaine sought confirmation.

“Yes,” Kurt affirmed.

“Okay. There’s a coffee shop about a block away from Columbia’s campus. Meet me there at three o’clock,” Blaine told him, reeling off the cross streets. No use in going across town just to find out that it was truly over, Blaine thought, and there was really no point in making things easier for Kurt while being inconvenienced himself. However, the fact that Kurt had broken up with Adam was more intriguing to Blaine than he would like to admit.

Four hours later Blaine found himself walking into the coffee shop, reminding himself not to throw himself at Kurt. He wasn’t sure what Kurt wanted, and even if he did want to rekindle their relationship, Blaine wasn’t sure that was possible. He had changed, and from what he had seen, he was pretty sure Kurt had too. He spotted Kurt in a corner, sitting in a small booth, two cups of coffee in front of him, one his usual latte, the other Blaine’s characteristic medium drip, looking nervous, as if he was afraid Blaine wasn’t going to come.

Kurt looked up as Blaine approached, and motioned for Blaine to sit across from him. He took a deep breath as Blaine slid into the booth. He began to speak, starting with something he hoped was a safe topic, “So, um, the hair, um, no gel, I guess, now?” As he spoke he gestured at Blaine’s curly hair, which was a bit longer than he had kept it in high school, and while not totally free of product, was no longer slicked down and gelled until it formed a smooth, straight helmet on his head. Great job, Kurt. Way to be articulate, Kurt thought to himself. 

Blaine felt a small smile creep across his face. “Yeah. Not that I don’t use anything, but not very much anymore. It started with not being able to get into my room to get my stuff-“

“The roommate? The girls told me,” Kurt interrupted.

“Mmm-hmm,” Blaine confirmed. “And thanks to him, combined with my class load, I was so tired it didn’t seem very important at the time. And then I just kind of got used to it. No one seems to mind the messy look here as much as my dad did, so I’ve pretty much just let it go.”

“I like it,” Kurt smiled. “I bet your boyfriend does too.”

“No boyfriend,” Blaine corrected.

“No? The guy last night who took the mic after you seemed kind of protective, so I assumed,” Kurt said. The truth was he’d been afraid that the good looking guy had been Blaine’s boyfriend, but hoped he wasn’t.

“Mike? No, he’s not only not my boyfriend, he’s very straight,” Blaine clarified. “Apparently he’s had several relationships that have ended due to his devotion to the band; between that and keeping up with classes, he doesn’t have much free time to spend with a girlfriend. The band’s his baby, really his first love, and that’s what he’s protective of. He doesn’t approve of anything that might be bad for it. Heartbreak, depression, group projects, bicycles, all are bad things in his eyes.”

“Heartbreak and depression I get. I even get group projects, since they take time and are harder to schedule around than individual ones. But bicycles?” Kurt was confused.

“I got the job because our regular keyboardist, Ann, broke her arm when she hit a patch of ice riding her bike between classes,” Blaine explained. “She’ll be back soon. The cast comes off next week, and she should be back up to full speed by Christmas.”

“Oh. So you won’t be in the band anymore?” Kurt wasn’t sure whether to be sorry Blaine was losing the job or glad that he would have more free time, time that might be spent with him.

“I’ll still be in it; since I play so many instruments and sing, and I guess I’m popular in the clubs we play, they asked me to stay on. You can almost always use an extra guitar, and Ann and I have been talking about doing some pretty cool things with two keyboards,” Blaine told him.

Okay, so they were managing to have a relatively friendly, relaxed conversation. So far, so good, Kurt thought. The only problem was they weren’t really getting to the reason Kurt wanted to talk to him. Kurt decided to feel him out about one more thing, since he was apparently willing to talk at the moment. “I’m kind of surprised you don’t have a boyfriend,” he said, hoping Blaine would respond. “I thought there’d be guys all over you once you hit New York.”

Blaine smiled, a little ruefully. “I’ve been asked out a few times.”

“And?”

“And I turned them down. They were all nice enough guys, all pretty good looking, but it just didn’t feel right. I did something that didn’t feel right once, and look where that got me. And going out with someone just to avoid being alone isn’t right. I’d just end up hurting some really sweet guy who didn’t deserve it, and hating myself for it, just like last time,” Blaine told him.

Ouch, Kurt thought. That one had hit home. It was time to get to the point. He took a deep breath, took a moment to hope Blaine wouldn’t get up and walk out, and began to speak. “Is there someone you’re interested in?”

Blaine just looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, then back down at his coffee.

Kurt reached out and brushed the back of his hand against Blaine’s. Blaine looked down at his hand, then looked up to meet his gaze once more. Kurt took a deep breath and began, “What I’m trying to ask is if we could, um, if you would consider trying again. Us. Trying to go out again, to be a couple, trying to be together again.” He was babbling and he knew it. He decided to shut up before he was unable to keep himself from blurting out that he was still in love with Blaine. It would be too humiliating to say that only to find out that Blaine didn’t feel the same way about him anymore.

Blaine blinked several times and swallowed hard. He wanted this, but he was afraid. What if too much had happened? What if they were too different now? What if they couldn’t forgive each other? What if they threw their pasts in each other’s faces any time they got angry or had a disagreement? He didn’t think he could live like that, never forgetting, bringing up the past, hurting each other over and over again. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I’ve changed, and I think you have too. I don’t know if we work together anymore. We can’t just go back and pick up where we left off. I thought we were soul mates, Kurt, but now . . . now I just don’t know.”

Kurt fought back tears and tried to listen to what Blaine was saying. He knew the answer he wanted to hear wasn’t coming, so he tried to see if there was anything left to salvage. Rerunning Blaine’s answer through his head, he came to the conclusion, finally, that there was still hope, at least a little bit. Blaine hadn’t said no. Yes, he had doubts, apparently a lot of them, but he hadn’t completely closed the door. Kurt tried to reassure him. “I know. You’re right. We have both changed. But,” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. “All I know is I still miss you.” He wanted so badly to say love, but was afraid it would scare Blaine away. “I was hurt and I felt empty and alone and I tried to feel the way I did with you with someone else and it didn’t work. I don’t even know if we’ll feel the same together. I don’t know if it’s possible to get that back. But I don’t want to walk away without trying. I know we can’t just pick up where we left off. You hurt me and I hurt you. But I was thinking that maybe . . . maybe we could try again? Just start over. Not try to pick up where we left off,” he assured. “But literally start over. With a first date? And take things really slow and see if there’s anything there.”

Blaine was silent for a moment before saying, “Kurt, I just don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Kurt was desperate, grabbing at straws. “Please? You don’t know if it’s a good idea, but you don’t know that it’s a bad one either. Can’t we try at least one date, please?”

Slowly, Blaine looked up into Kurt’s eyes, searching, but neither could have articulated what he was looking for, although he must have found it. “Okay. One date. We’ll see how it goes and take it from there.”

“Thank you,” Kurt breathed. They looked at the calendars on their phones and tried to find a date, discovering that between their finals and various jobs it would be the Friday before winter break before they could get together. Both were leaving the next morning, Blaine to spend the holidays with his family, Kurt to attend the wedding, as the DNA test had proven that Stephen was Finn’s, and to spend Christmas with his parents before returning to New York for New Year’s Eve. Laughing, Kurt said, “I know I said we’d take things slow, but this wasn’t what I meant.”

“I like it,” Blaine responded. “It’ll keep us from rushing into anything, force us to take things slowly even if we’re tempted not to, make us think.” That was the last thing Kurt wanted to do, but he knew Blaine was hesitant, and if this made him relax about their relationship, he was willing to live with it. He was willing to do anything at this point to be with Blaine again.

* * *

The day finally arrived. Kurt had planned the evening as much as he could. He had decided the ideal evening would be a nice dinner, followed by the theater, a musical, of course, and then a cab back to the Columbia campus, where he would leave Blaine. 

In retrospect, it was a good thing they’d had to wait a couple of weeks. Kurt had, of course, finished his Christmas shopping the weekend after Thanksgiving, but now he would, he hoped, also need to get a gift for Blaine, and he wasn’t exactly flush with cash this close to the end of the semester. The time had allowed him to pick up extra shifts waiting tables, and to volunteer for every short term work-study or student scut-work job available at NYADA. As a result, he was able to keep the reservation he’d made immediately after leaving Blaine at the coffee shop, the one at one of the best rated Italian restaurants in the Theater District. But the theater tickets worried him. 

He had the cash to pay full price for a few of the less expensive shows if necessary, but he was hoping for half-price tickets or, even better, student rush. It might make the difference between cabs and the subway, and he really wanted to be able to afford a cab. Fortunately, he had only one final, his last one of the semester, on the big day. It was first thing in the morning, and as soon as it was over he rushed from the building and walked as quickly as he could to the first of the theaters on his list. He wanted to choose carefully. There were a few fairy tale and Disney-esque shows out, like Cinderella and Aladdin, that would work well, and Blaine loved things like that. Unfortunately, he struck out on student rush on those. He could try later for them at the half-price ticket booth if necessary. He had considered several others that were out, like Chicago and Cabaret, but they seemed too heavy, too dark. He walked into the Al Hirschfield Theater, beginning to lose hope and resigning himself to the subway; however, luck was finally with him. Student rush tickets were available: he and Blaine would be seeing Kinky Boots. It was supposed to be sweet and funny; he just hoped Blaine wouldn’t find going to a musical about making boots for drag queens to be too cliché. But it had won several Tonys, so he could use that to justify it if Blaine objected; he just hoped he wouldn’t need to do so. 

He went home to dress. He spent the afternoon considering and discarding outfits before finally dressing in the one he had planned the day Blaine had agreed to go out with him. He fussed with his hair, which was refusing to cooperate in any way. By the time he should be leaving, he should have felt confident; instead he was nervous and flustered, feeling more uncertain and unprepared than he ever had for a date with Blaine. He finally gave up, knowing if he didn’t leave soon to pick Blaine up they’d never make their dinner reservations on time.

He took the subway to the Columbia campus and found his way to the dorm where Blaine told him they’d meet. As he nervously ascended the steps, Blaine pushed open the doors and came down to meet him. “Good! You’re ready. I ran behind, and I don’t want to be late for our reservations,” Kurt said breathlessly, reversing direction to head down the steps next to Blaine.

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Kurt told him, beginning to run as he saw a cab at the edge of campus. It was gone before they got there, but he was able to hail another a few minutes later. They rode in silence for most of the way to the restaurant, neither quite knowing how to start a conversation or what might or might not be a safe topic, but both wanting the evening to go well. By the time they arrived, Kurt was beginning to worry. He and Blaine had always been able to talk to each other, whether as friends or boyfriends or lovers. What if they had lost that and couldn’t get it back?

As the taxi pulled to the curb and Kurt paid the driver, he saw Blaine’s eyebrows rise from the corner of his eye. “You like it?” He asked.

“Um, yeah, but how . . .?” Blaine trailed off.

“Well, I made the reservation pretty much as soon as I left you when you agreed to go out with me. And then I picked up some extra shifts. And the theater tickets are student rush,” Kurt explained, then mentally face-palmed when he realized he’d just blown the surprise.

Blaine began to bounce like a little kid. “What are we going to see?”

“I’ve already told you more than I planned. You’re just going to have to wait to find out,” Kurt teased, starting to relax now that they seemed to be getting their playful rhythm back.

They were seated quickly. After looking over the menu, they ordered. Blaine started with a salad of spinach, beets, walnuts and goat cheese. He turned to Kurt with a look of surprise when Kurt passed on salad, ordering pasta e fagioli instead. “What? Have you not noticed? It’s cold outside, and in case you forgot, I get cold easily,” Kurt said a little defensively. Blaine smiled. The fact that Kurt always seemed to be cold, despite having grown up weathering Ohio’s freezing winters, was something Blaine had always found endearing, not to mention somewhat entertaining, and he loved to tease Kurt about it. Blaine followed his salad with chicken smothered in peppers, garlic, onions, and mushrooms in a white wine sauce with pasta on the side. Kurt ordered chicken as well, although his was covered in mixed mushrooms sautéed in Marsala, served over pasta. After they were through ordering, Kurt sent up a quick prayer to whatever or whoever might be out there to answer it that they would manage to talk.

A moment of silence followed, and then Kurt began to speak. “You know, when you came last spring, I wasn’t expecting to see you.” Where on earth was this coming from? He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to get into it, and yet he was the one bringing it up. Oh, well, might as well clear the decks of this issue and start fresh afterwards. At least it would let him know how Blaine felt, and give him an indication of whether or not this was going to work. They’d be able to make it through tonight, and how this conversation went would give them an idea of whether there would be a tomorrow for them.

“So I gathered,” Blaine replied drily. “You know, you might have known if you’d ever listened to your messages or talked to your roommates.”

“In my defense, Santana didn’t tell either Rachel or I. She ‘forgot.’ And I was still mad at you, so I deleted the messages. I thought I was over what had happened in the fall, but apparently I wasn’t. And then you proposed, and I don’t know why, I just wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. So I told you I was seeing Adam, which was sort of true. We were friends, and he wanted to be more, but I just . . . didn’t feel that for him, so we kind of dated, but it never went anywhere. Until you came last spring.” Okay, that was a little more open than Kurt had planned to be, but somehow he felt the need to tell Blaine everything; Blaine needed to know. Blaine was quiet, just looking at Kurt, as if waiting for him to finish. “You know, if you hadn’t stayed at our place last spring, I might never have slept with Adam.” Right. He definitely didn’t mean to say that. He needed to shut up now. He forced himself to stop talking.

After a moment Blaine looked him in the eye and said, “If you hadn’t slept with him, virtually in my presence, I might add, I might have gone to NYADA.”

Kurt gasped, “Oh, my God, Blaine, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Blaine said with a smile. “NYADA, musical theater, Broadway, that was always your dream. It wasn’t mine. Mine was to be with you, and if that meant NYADA, then so be it.”

Kurt was confused. “I don’t understand. I thought that was what you wanted, too.”

Blaine shook his head. “I’m still not sure what I want to do when I grow up. I know I want it to be something with the arts, but I’m not sure what. Last year we had a girl at school who wrote music, and it’s something I’ve played around with a little. In the past year I’ve done a lot more of it, started playing it for people, and they’ve liked it. And you know I love to sing. Acting’s okay, but I’m really more focused on singing, playing, and writing music. That’s what I think I want to do, I’m just not sure in what context. And, um . . .” He broke off, blushing.

“And?” Kurt prompted.

“And I’ve been thinking about a minor in English.” Blaine ignored Kurt’s horrified look. “I’ve been taking a creative writing class, and it turns out I love to write.” He blushed as he added, “Especially plays.”

Before Kurt could comment, Blaine continued, “And I’ve met some incredible people at Columbia, made good contacts –“

Kurt cut him off, saying, “You could have done that at NYADA.”

“And been Kurt Hummel’s boyfriend from back in Ohio. Not that I didn’t love being your boyfriend,” Blaine said. Kurt noticed that he used the past tense to refer to their relationship. “But at Columbia, I’m Blaine Anderson. People see me, what I do, who I am, not just who I date, or used to date. It was good to get out there, on my own, make a fresh start. Even if it wasn’t perfect. It was mine. You got to do that. It was a good thing that I did, too.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” Kurt wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear the answer to that question. 

“I’m not going to lie to you. If your goal was to hurt me, you succeeded,” Blaine answered. Kurt felt horrible. “And one time, I kind of get. But if that was the only reason you did it, it had gotten pretty excessive, and yes, I don’t know why, since I’d given up on us and accepted that you’d moved on, but it still hurt, every time you did it. But, no, I guess I’m not mad. But what about Adam? How does he feel about all this? Does he know we’re out tonight?”

Kurt squirmed in his chair and stared intensely into his soup. He took a deep breath and let it out before beginning to speak. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I wanted to, but I’m still sorry. It was stupid and childish and it didn’t make anything better for either one of us. And every time I did it,” he said, blushing, unable to admit what he had done in so many words now, “it felt so wrong, and I felt dirty, and . . . I don’t know. It was like I couldn’t stop myself. I’d get angry all over again and do it and it was like the rational part of me was watching and I knew it was wrong but, I just . . . .” He trailed off. “And Adam . . . I guess, now that I think about it, I hurt him too. I never meant to, not really. I knew he wanted it, so I guess I was able to rationalize it, pretend that I wasn’t using him and he wouldn’t be hurt. When I broke up with him he was confused, I think. Santana apparently talked to him, and I’m not sure if it helped or hurt; he was angry for a while, but the last few days he’s talked to me again. He says he knows we can’t ever be more than friends, and he says he wants to try to be friends again, but when I asked if he wanted to go for coffee, he said no. I think maybe it will take time. Maybe I screwed things up too badly, and we won’t ever be friends again. Just like I screwed everything up with you. And no, he doesn’t know we’re out tonight. Everything is still a little too raw. If we’d gone for coffee I was going to try to bring it up, but like I said, he didn’t want to.”

Blaine had finished his salad and set the plate aside. Quietly, he asked, “Do you think you’ve screwed everything up with me? That we can’t get it back?”

Kurt didn’t answer. He couldn’t meet Blaine’s eyes; he was too afraid that if he looked up that was exactly what he’d see there.

Blaine continued, “Then why are we here, Kurt?”

Kurt ignored the tears beginning to slip down his cheeks, and fought the lump in his throat to find his voice. “I think I screwed up what we had. I don’t know that we can get it back. But I know I miss you and I still want you and maybe, if you want to, we can try to build something else. Something new. Maybe it’ll be better, maybe not, I don’t know. I just know I want to try to have something with you. Even if we’re just friends, if that’s all it can be, I’ll take that. I want more, but I’ll take what I can get.”

The waiter removed their first course and placed their entrees in front of them. Blaine smiled and thanked him before turning back to speak to Kurt. “In all fairness to you, I’m not blameless here. I did cheat first. Really, I’m the only one who cheated, since I guess we were broken up when you were seeing Adam, or at least when you were sleeping together. I think I just failed to recognize that we’d become ‘friends with benefits,’ since I’ve always hated that.” Kurt was looking at him with renewed hope, his fork aimlessly trailing through his pasta. “I think a new start will be good for us. Let’s start with friends, without benefits, let things develop on their own and see where we go from there.”

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thank you.”

Blaine smiled. “You’re welcome. Now eat. I don’t want to miss curtain on the first play I’m getting to see since I moved here. Nor do I want things to be messed up on my first date in New York.” Kurt flashed him a radiant smiled before lifting a forkful of pasta to his mouth.

The rest of the meal was passed chatting about the upcoming wedding and holiday plans. By the time they had finished their meal, both were relaxed and enjoying the evening. They split a dessert of pears poached in red wine and cinnamon before Kurt paid the bill and they walked, hand in hand, to the theater.

“We’re here.” Kurt announced.

Blaine’s eyes lit up, and he bounced on his toes a little. “Kinky Boots? Really? I’ve been wanting to see this. It’s supposed to be incredible!” Kurt breathed a small sigh of relief. They joined the line as it filed into the theater. Once inside, Kurt bought Blaine a Kinky Boots shirt that proclaimed “You Change the World When You Change Your Mind” and a program, and then they went to find their seats. They were high in the balcony, way off to the side, but their view was unobstructed and they were together. To Kurt, they were perfect.

After the play was over Kurt hailed a cab and they made their way back to Columbia, deciding to walk for a few minutes before they parted. They held hands and strolled across campus, talking easily and quietly about the play. “What was your favorite song?” Blaine asked.

“Hmmm. Probably The History of Wrong Guys,” Kurt said, adding when he saw Blaine’s eyebrows quirk, “I know just how she feels. I mean, I had crushes on Finn, then Sam, then you, and I’d given up by the time you were interested, and, well, you weren’t wrong, but my timing was certainly off, and then, not to place blame, like the song says there’s blame to share, but we messed everything up, and then Adam . . . .”

“Shhh,” Blaine soothed, bringing a finger under Kurt’s chin to get him to look up at him. “Starting over, remember?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said. They had arrived at the dorm. “Thank you. For tonight.”

“You’re welcome. I had a really great time,” Blaine told him.

Kurt decided to take a chance. “Since we’re both going back home tomorrow, and I know for a fact you’re invited to the wedding on Sunday, would you consider accompanying me?”

Blaine smiled. “I’d be honored.” 

They spent a couple of minutes ironing out details before Kurt decided to press on, since the evening had been going so well. “May I kiss you goodnight?” He asked.

Though it was only the span of a heartbeat or two, it seemed to take forever before Blaine answered, “Yes.” Slow, Kurt reminded himself as he leaned in, placing a gentle, chaste kiss on Blaine’s cheek. He squeezed both of Blaine’s hands and then let go, watching Blaine walk into the dorm.

* * *

They attended the wedding together, well, as together as they could, given that Kurt was a member of the wedding party. Finn and Rachel had fought over whose side he should stand on until he volunteered to opt out. Ultimately, Finn had played the brother card and claimed him as best man, so he stood between Finn and Puck, who was flanked on his other side by Mike and Sam. On Rachel’s side stood Santana, Mercedes, Tina and Quinn. The wedding was held in a small nondenominational chapel, officiated by a Rabbi. Looking out at the guests, Kurt caught Blaine’s gaze and smiled, privately thinking about what it would be like if he and Blaine ever got married. Kurt hoped that was a possibility, but knew it might not be; he turned down Blaine’s proposal, and he might never get another chance. They both enjoyed the ceremony and the small reception that was held afterwards at the Berry house, where the major activity was cooing over Stephen.

They excused themselves early, since Blaine had to drive back to Westerville. But neither was truly in a hurry to part, so they drove to a small park, one where they had spent many hours during their last year and a half together in Ohio. “Was it just me, or did Rachel seem put out by the attention Stephen was getting?” Blaine inquired.

Kurt laughed. “Have you met Rachel Berry? She’s annoyed because the day was supposed to be about her, but the spotlight’s on her baby instead. In her mind, it’s always all about her. I’m just glad that they made it to the altar without any major disasters, fights, or trauma this time.”

Blaine was quiet for a moment, contemplating if it was too soon to voice his thoughts. Ultimately, he decided it wasn’t; if Kurt freaked out when Blaine said what he was thinking, he would know trying again was a waste of time. If he didn’t, then maybe this was worth pursuing. “When we have kids, it will be all about them, and I’ll be so happy that it is. I would never want to try to outshine them.”

Kurt’s breath caught in his throat and he stopped walking, turning to look into Blaine’s face, trying to read his expression to see if he was serious. “When we have kids?” He managed once he found his voice.

“Yeah. I mean, I know we never really talked about it, but whenever I pictured our future together, I saw us married, with a family. I mean, if you don’t want-“ Blaine began, but was cut off.

“No, I mean yes, God, why am I never coherent when I need to be? I’m trying to say that I do want children. With you. If you still want to. And marriage. Preferably first. God, I’m not making any sense.” Kurt babbled.

Blaine chuckled. “Yes, you are. I guess we both kind of forgot that we’re starting over, taking it slow.” He grew serious, looking into Kurt’s eyes. “Like I said before, we’re both different people than we were, we’ve both been through a lot while we’ve been apart, both done good things, and both made some pretty awful mistakes. I’m still not sure that we work together anymore, but I think we might, and that it’s worth giving it a shot. We enjoy spending time together. And now, I know we both want the same thing some day: marriage and a family. So that’s progress.”

Kurt was okay when Blaine reminded him of their promise to take things slowly, but his heart plummeted when Blaine said he wasn’t yet sure of the relationship. He had briefly been floating on a cloud, thinking that Blaine had made up his mind, and now everything was once again uncertain. But Blaine was offering hope, and Kurt was willing to cling to that hope like a life raft until Blaine could give him more.

They walked back to Blaine’s car quietly, but hand in hand. Kurt opened the driver’s door for Blaine, saying, “Well, I guess this is goodnight.”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?” Blaine asked with a flirty smile. Kurt grinned, and as he angled toward Blaine’s cheek, Blaine shook his head slightly and tapped his own lips, causing Kurt to giggle. Once he had the giggling under control, he complied with Blaine’s silent directions, giving Blaine a chaste kiss on the lips.

“That’s all?” Blaine asked, pretending to pout.

“Taking it slow,” Kurt reminded him with a smile, turning to go back to his dad’s truck, which he was borrowing while he was here, since he sold his Navigator to get the money needed for his move to New York. 

* * *

They managed to see each other several times over the winter break, slowly growing more sure of their relationship and of each other. They drove to the park they had gone to after the wedding Christmas afternoon to exchange small presents. Blaine came over to the house to drive with Kurt and his father to the airport the morning of New Year’s Eve. At the airport, they lingered outside security, holding hands and stalling. Finally, Kurt sighed and leaned his forehead against Blaine’s. “I wish you were coming with me. Now I won’t have anyone to kiss on New Year’s Eve.”

“Mmm. I wish I was coming too. And I’m in the same boat. No one to kiss,” Blaine reminded him. “We’ll have to make up for it when I get back.”

“Which will be?” Kurt prompted.

“In two weeks, right before classes start,” Blaine said. They’d had this discussion, many times, over the past few weeks. Kurt kept hoping the answer would be different, but Blaine’s parents wanted to see him too. He would spend the next couple of weeks catching up with friends and family that he hadn’t seen much of during the break so far, since he’d been spending so much time with Kurt.

Kurt’s father approached from where he had been waiting a discreet distance away and reminded Kurt he needed to catch his plane. The boys parted with promises to call each other at midnight and one last slow, sweet kiss. Kurt gave his dad a last hug and turned to join the line, going back home. He realized for the first time that New York was truly his home, and Ohio was just a place to visit. And New York was where he would make his home with Blaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song reference in Chapter 4 is from the song For Good from Wicked.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Once they were both back in New York, the best of intentions gave way to reality. Kurt was working three jobs, had a full class load, and private lessons plus the occasional audition. The leadership of Adam’s Apples had also fallen to him, and he felt he owed it to Adam not to let it fall to pieces. Blaine had officially added a second minor, and was taking the maximum number of hours permitted by the university, plus he had practice and private lessons for his various instruments, and band practice. They managed to meet a couple of times a week for coffee most weeks, and to accept that even then they would both be likely to be distracted and perhaps busy, studying while holding hands, drinking coffee and sharing something sweet. Actual dates, however, were harder. Friday and Saturday nights were out because of Blaine’s band, and most other nights found them both too busy. They managed a real date only about once every two or three weeks.

“The entire world is conspiring against us,” Kurt grumbled one afternoon over coffee as they both looked at their schedules, discovering it would be another week and a half before they could go out for an evening.

Blaine smiled and squeezed his hand. “Slow,” he reminded.

“I know, but I want us to determine what that means, not our calendars,” Kurt complained. “It’s official. I hate the stupid calendar app on my phone.”

Blaine laughed. He missed the time together too. But as much as they said they were starting over from scratch, they had both learned from the mistakes they made the first time. Blaine was less demanding of Kurt’s time, not that he had any more than Kurt did. Kurt was more responsive to Blaine, and made sure that no matter what was going on at school or work, he called Blaine and made time to talk every day. They texted several times a day, but recognized that school or work would probably delay the response, although they each made certain that they did respond. Overall, they were building a strong foundation for their relationship, brick by brick, starting with understanding and communication.

* * *

Spring break approached. Kurt and Blaine decided to stay in New York, catching up on classwork and trying to make extra money. They would need it, as they had decided to move in together when summer started. The time together without classes would also permit them to look at apartments.

Despite Blaine’s parents asking him to come home for the summer and work at his father’s firm, he had decided to stay in New York for the summer and go to summer school. He would need to do so each summer if he was to graduate in a reasonable amount of time without dropping either a major or a minor. Kurt was proud of him for standing up to them and not backing down. However, staying in the city presented a few problems. The dorm space for summer school students was limited at best, as many dorm rooms were devoted to the various camps held on the campus during the summer. Blaine applied for a position as a counselor at one of the music camps that ran several sessions covering most of the summer hoping to get a dorm room that way. He got the job, but not the dorm space. So the good news was he had an extra source of income for the summer and could be more independent and rely on his parents less. The bad news was that he would essentially be homeless.

Kurt, with the approval of his three adult roommates, had extended an invitation to stay with them, but it was already crowded in the loft, with Rachel, Finn, Santana, and Stephen there in addition to Kurt. Kurt adored his nephew, but he had to admit that attempting to study or sleep with a baby around was sometimes a lost cause. One night when Stephen had an ear infection and spent most of the day screaming, with no end in sight, Kurt had resorted to texting Blaine to ask about the couch in the lounge at the dorm. Blaine considered the offer anyway; he really did. It would be a good temporary solution if he was going to go back to the dorms next year, but it wouldn’t work for anything long term. And he had nightmare visions of five adults, two per “bedroom” plus one in the “living room,” trying to sleep, have privacy, use the bathroom in the morning or before bed in the evening, or God forbid, actually be intimate with his or her significant other. And as much as he wanted a family someday, living with a baby wasn’t something he was ready for, especially since said baby’s mother seemed to regard anyone living with her as part of a free babysitting service. He would stay with them as a last resort; it was better than a cardboard box, after all, but decided he would try to get a summer sublet or, if he decided not to live in the dorms next year, maybe a longer term lease.

For the time being, he continued to live on Rob and Mike’s floor, as the requested room change hadn’t come through. Mike would be graduating in May and moving out, and Blaine and Rob discussed requesting each other as roommates. However, the situation changed when Rob proposed to his girlfriend. She accepted, and suggested living together during their senior year. Given how this year had gone, Blaine was hesitant to just reenter the roommate pool; he might end up with someone even worse than Brendan, if that was possible. 

The final straw came just before spring break. Blaine had gone to his room to get some clothes he had left. He had to wait almost an hour before a giggling girl exited the room and Brendan reached out to remove the tie on the door handle. It was two in the afternoon. Blaine entered to find his roommate stretched out on his bed, clad only in a pair of boxers. “Blaine, man, long time no see. Just to give you a heads up, I already filled out my housing forms for next year and turned them in. I requested you as a roommate again. You’re the best. Most of my friends get so much flak from their roommates about girls, but you’re so cool about it. They all wish you were their roommate.”

Blaine didn’t say anything, just shook his head in disbelief, grabbed the jacket and shirts he had come to get, and left. As he left the dorm, he texted Kurt. Looking for apartment over break. Dorms out for next year.

Kurt got the text as he was fighting with Rachel. She had told Finn Kurt would watch Stephen and had gone out to practice at the theater, as she thought that the lead sounded hoarse the night before and was hoping she would call in sick. Finn was at class, having gotten into Brooklyn College as a music education major. Santana was working, and Kurt had to go to class. He’d only stopped by the apartment to shower and grab lunch, since he had a long break after a grueling dance class, and before his much less sweaty afternoon classes. Finn had been home when he’d gotten there, but he emerged from the bathroom to find Stephen crying in his crib and all the adults gone. Now he was trying to force Rachel to come take care of her child so he could go to class.

As soon as he hung up on Rachel after telling her he was bringing Stephen to the theater, he gathered the baby and the necessary equipment and left. He returned Blaine’s text while waiting for the subway. Want a roommate? I need to get out of here. He wasn’t sure what Blaine’s response would be, as they were still in a fairly innocent stage of their new relationship, physically.

As he stepped onto the train, his phone buzzed. He saw a new text from Blaine. We should talk. Coffee tomorrow at 3? Usual place.

Kurt responded, agreeing to the proposed meeting. He was slightly nervous. This could be good or bad. It could be about going forward with their relationship, or ending it, although he thought it was going well. It could simply be discussing the relationship, or maybe just talking about apartments. He would try to feel Blaine out when they spoke before bed.

That evening, Blaine could tell Kurt was not in a good mood. When he tried to sound Kurt out about what was wrong, Kurt responded shortly, “I can’t talk about it now. The walls here, aren’t.” If he was saying what Blaine thought he was saying, Blaine had a pretty good idea why Kurt proposed moving in together. Kurt never got around to exploring what Blaine meant by his text; there were too many people home and no privacy.

The next day, Blaine began tentatively, “So what are you thinking, you know, about moving in together . . . .”

Kurt replied, “It can be what you want it to be, or whatever you need it to be. I can go at your pace. If you want to go back to, um, where we were, before, um, everything that happened, we can do that. If you just want to be roommates, we can do that too. If you want we can even try to find a two bedroom somewhere. I’m not picky. I just need to get out of there. Don’t get me wrong, I love my nephew, but he’s not the quietest or most considerate roommate. And I didn’t father a child, a concept said child’s parents seem to be unclear on, at least when it comes to whose responsibility it is to care for him.”

Blaine smiled. “Okay. I don’t think I’m really ready to go back to, um, having sex, at least not yet.” At Kurt’s slightly distressed look, he said quickly, “Which doesn’t mean I, we, won’t get there eventually. And I think as long as we can agree on what we are and are not willing to do at any given time, and respect each other’s boundaries, we can share a room, and,” he added, blushing, “a bed.”

Kurt smiled and reached across the table to hold his hand. “So, when do you want to look? And where?”

Blaine responded with a question. “Are you staying in town for the break?”

“Yeah,” Kurt answered. “I’ve got a couple of class projects to catch up on, and I need to work as much as possible, and Isabelle is planning a huge new thing on the website.”

“Mmm. What? Or is it a secret?” Blaine asked.

“I don’t really know,” Kurt told him. “It’s Isabelle. When something does get produced, it will be brilliant, but until it just morphs into something spectacular, no one really knows what exactly it is we’re doing, including Isabelle.”

“Okay,” Blaine laughed. “Fair enough. I’m staying in town too. The band has a couple of gigs, I have a ton of homework and studying to do, and I was kind of hoping we’d get to have maybe two dates in one week.”

“Whoa, there, big fella. Going awfully fast, aren’t we?” Kurt teased.

Blaine ignored him and continued, “So, if we can find time, I was thinking maybe we could look for a place during the break. As for where, somewhere in Manhattan would certainly be the most convenient for us both, but it’s also the most expensive, so I guess I’m open.”

Kurt said thoughtfully, “Well, there is another loft in my building that’s going to be available in mid-May. It’s huge and cheap, and we can do anything to the interior, but it does have one major drawback.”

“Which is?” Blaine prompted.

“Rachel. If we move into another apartment in the building, it means everyone gets more space and pays more rent, but it also means she’ll keep using us as free twenty-four hour-a-day babysitters,” Kurt explained, going on to tell the story behind the text offering to room with Blaine.

“Right. So the loft in your building is right out,” Blaine said, “And anywhere within easy walking distance is probably not a good idea, either.”

Kurt laughed. “Okay, let’s start with Manhattan and see what we can find. We might have to be pretty cozy, but hopefully that’ll be okay.”

“Sounds good. I’ll start looking at listings. Fortunately, on campus housing isn’t cheap, and my parents will contribute at least that much, probably some more. They don’t want me living someplace awful, although they also don’t want me living like a CEO while I’m in college,” Blaine said. Kurt squirmed a little. Blaine’s parents had money, both new and old, and Blaine had a significant trust fund, as well as his college fund, but would not have full access to the trust fund until he had both graduated from college and turned twenty five. Kurt was a little uncomfortable with the idea that Blaine might pay a disproportionate share of the rent; however, he appeased himself with the thought that he could pick up more of the chores to make up for it, especially cooking, unless Blaine’s skills in the kitchen had improved significantly during their time apart.

Which was how they found themselves on the first Saturday of spring break, armed with metro cards and a stack of apartment listings, meeting with building managers and real estate agents. They looked at apartment after apartment until, exhausted, and with the prospect of going to work that evening, they collapsed in a small booth in a coffee shop, coffee, blueberry muffins, and notes spread across the table between them.

“What about that place in the East Village?” Blaine asked. “It’s kind of far, but near transportation and closer than you are now.” 

“Nope. Too expensive, not to mention the fact that it was tiny. I mean, I know we’re going to have a small space, but I was hoping my entire apartment would be at least as big as my parents’ kitchen. Where would we put your instruments?” Kurt replied. “How about the one in Chinatown? You know you love your Chinese food.”

“Nah. Too crowded, too many tourists, not to mention barely bigger than the one in the Village, although it was cheaper. And did you get a whiff when the wind shifted? Having the fish market across the street may be more than I can stand.” Blaine answered. “Yorkville? It’s quiet and private.”

“And far from the subway and we don’t have cars here. I don’t have one at all. And there’s too much construction.” Kurt said. “What about the one in Morningside Heights?”

“It was nice, but it was two bedrooms and we said we only needed one, so we’d be paying for a room we don’t really need, but I did like the light, and the living and dining area would be good for my instruments. And it’s an easy walk to Columbia, but what about for you? It’s not close to NYADA.” Blaine pointed out.

“It’s closer than I am now, and we’d save on transportation costs if you didn’t need to take the subway, and the neighborhood’s pretty nice, lots of parks to walk in,” Kurt told him, rubbing his toes along Blaine’s calf to make his point.

“We should at least discuss the others. We looked at two in Washington Heights. What did you think of them?” Blaine inquired.

“Uh-uh.” Kurt said, “The first one just felt like we were out of the city, in the suburbs. Maybe I’ll change my mind later, but right now I love being in the city where everything’s busy and alive.”

“Kurt, it was next to the last natural forest in Manhattan. How is that not alive?”

“Do I look like Davy Crockett to you, Blaine?” Kurt shot back. “How many times have we gone camping? That’s right, none,” he said answering his own question. “I am not a forest person.”

Blaine sighed, “What was wrong with the second place?”

“The building manager kept looking at us like he thought we were dirty or something. He didn’t say anything, but I’m pretty sure he was homophobic. I’m not sure he’d approve us, and anyway, we just escaped that, I don’t want to buy back into it again. What about Alphabet City?” Kurt said.

“That place was right on the edge of Alphabet City, and the neighborhood seemed a little iffy. And it was loud. It was only on the second floor, and the restaurant underneath played the music so loud I could not only hear it, I could feel it through the floor. How am I supposed to practice with that going on?” Blaine asked.

“True,” Kurt replied. “Which brings us back to the place in Morningside Heights, which we both kind of like. Does it being a fifth floor walk-up bother you?”

“No. And you’re already on the fourth floor in a walk-up, so it’s not that much different for you. It’s pretty tiny and there’s not much storage. Can you deal with that?” Blaine wanted to know.

“I’ll have to,” Kurt sighed. “Everyplace we looked at was pretty small, although the one in the East Village was the worst. Assuming we don’t decide to get a third roommate at some point, we can use the extra bedroom for storage or maybe have a guestroom. But we can afford it on our own, I think.”

“Third roommate?” Blaine asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, we planned on just Rachel and I, and look how that turned out,” Kurt pointed out. “That being said, I’m looking forward to it being just us. Hell, I’m looking forward to anything that remotely resembles privacy and a baby-free zone. I want kids someday, but today is not that day.”

“Have you told Rachel you’re moving out?” Blaine inquired.

“We talked about it. She’s not happy to be losing a paying roommate, because now they’ll all pay more, but it’s still less per person than when it was just the two of us. We only had a few short, peaceful weeks before Santana showed up. And she’s definitely not pleased about losing her on-call free babysitter. But she understands, or at least claims to. We even talked about whether it made more sense to have she and Finn move out, but the loft is convenient for him for school, and with Stephen, they need the space.” Kurt explained.

They went on to discuss leases and deposits, and called the building manager to make arrangements for signing paperwork and moving in. They called their parents and told them, then exchanged quick kisses before leaving for work.

* * *

Blaine called Kurt the next morning with the news that his parents had given them a house warming gift of money to help furnish their new apartment. Kurt was immensely grateful. Although he had located and purchased most of the furniture in he and Rachel’s apartment, he didn’t think she’d part with it willingly, not because she liked it, but because she didn’t want to have to replace it. And, truthfully, he wasn’t too attached to much of it. They would still have to budget their purchases, but they wouldn’t be sitting on the floor or fighting Rachel for furniture. That afternoon, over lunch, they discussed what they would need.

“Is there anything in my apartment you want to take?” He asked Blaine. “I was thinking the wingback chair that I reupholstered and my bed.”

“Hmm. Not the bed. We’ll buy a new one. The chair is fine.” Blaine said in a tone that did not invite discussion.

“Why not the bed? It’s perfectly good, and . . . ,” Kurt said, trailing off as he met Blaine’s gaze and suddenly figured out what his objection to the bed was. “Oh. Right. We’ll buy a new bed.”

“What about the dining table?” Blaine asked. 

“I think it’s too big for the new space. We could make it fit if we had to, but we’d have to put your cello under or on it all the time, and shove the table against the wall for you to practice. Or you could give up cello,” Kurt told him. At Blaine’s stricken expression, Kurt laughed. “I didn’t think so.”

The rest of the day was spent shopping. Both agreed to go new for the bed, which used up half of their money. They searched antique stores and flea markets for a couch and a new, smaller dining table and chairs. They had a little bit of money left over after buying the furniture and arranging for delivery, so Blaine insisted on buying new linens for the bed. Kurt pointed out that it was, like his current bed, a full size, so they could use his linens, but a repeat of the look from earlier made him drop his argument. Kurt knew they would still need some lamps and at least an end table and a bedside table, but he could shop for them on his own later.

That night, they went out to dinner, Kurt bubbling over with plans for their new place, and Blaine smiling happily while he listened. They found a theater that showed vintage films and saw an old Rock Hudson/Doris Day movie. They kissed goodnight sweetly outside Blaine’s dorm, where he was finally getting to use his own room, since Brendan was gone for the break. It was a wonderful start to the week.

* * *

The rest of spring break was spent working and studying, for the most part. They managed to have coffee or lunch together each day, and Blaine’s plan for two real dates materialized when they managed to go out together Wednesday night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains fairly explicit sex. It is at the end of the chapter. If you do not want to read the smutty part, stop reading after the Chinese food, and skip the rest of the chapter.

CHAPTER 6

Blaine’s finals ended two days after the lease started, so he had little time to pack and prepare for the move. Kurt was done with classes a few days earlier, so he packed his clothes and other things and prepared to move. The day the furniture was due to arrive, he and Finn rented a truck and loaded his boxes and the wingback chair into it. They stopped by the Columbia campus and picked up everything Blaine had been able to pack: most of his clothes, a quilt, some pictures, and his instruments, as he didn’t need them for his last few finals. They were able to unload the truck before noon, so they had a break before the various furniture delivery people would show up in the late afternoon. Kurt ordered a pizza, then began to unpack.

They placed all of Blaine’s instruments in the second bedroom to prevent them from being bumped into and damaged while things were being moved and delivered. Kurt stood in the kitchen, beginning to unpack boxes and trying to decide where to put things. All things considered, he had a fair number of pots, pans, and utensils, and the kitchen consisted of only a gas range with an oven, a small, but thankfully full size refrigerator, a small sink, a tiny square of countertop, a single drawer, and four small cabinets. He began to make a mental list of things they would need. He could find some open shelves or maybe an old hutch to go against the wall by the window for dishes and some pots and pans. He would have to buy a pot rack and hooks for utensils. 

“Dude, did you take everything from our kitchen?” Finn demanded.

“Really, Finn? First, I bought all of it. Second, neither you nor Rachel cooks, and Santana doesn’t either. And third, I packed it all up three days ago and none of you have noticed. I think you can live without it. And if you can’t, go buy your own stuff; you have a job now.” Kurt was starting to get tired and irritable, and he needed lunch.

“It doesn’t pay much,” Finn grumbled. He had gotten a job at a day care center/preschool that was housed in and run by a community center a few blocks from the loft. He was teaching music to the preschool students two days a week, and directing the after school music program at the community center. The job barely paid, but it did provide free day care for children of employees, so from six in the morning to seven in the evening, if both he and Rachel had classes or work, they had childcare coverage for Stephen. Finn was usually out of both work and classes by seven, and when he wasn’t, they relied on their usual patchwork of babysitters.

“Neither does mine. Any of mine. And I have three.” Kurt reminded him testily as he went to open the door for the pizza delivery guy. He tossed the large pizza into the middle of the floor, and they ate it directly from the box. It was half double pepperoni for Finn, half veggie for him. Looking at the grease pooling on Finn’s side, he snarled, “Try to not drip grease on my side. I’d like to live past thirty.”

After inhaling his half of the pizza, plus half of Kurt’s, Finn left to return the truck. Kurt wandered into the bedroom. The larger bedroom was still quite small. It featured the same hardwood floors as the rest of the apartment, which was located in an old converted brownstone. Kurt tried to figure out if they were original or had been part of some restoration, or maybe the conversion, when they had divided the old house into four apartments on each floor. Each bedroom had a large window, an air conditioning unit set into the wall below the window, clearly a recent addition, a radiator, and a tiny closet. His clothes would more than take up the closet, and that didn’t leave room for Blaine’s things. He tried to decide if they could fit a wardrobe or a bureau, or maybe both. He was very glad Blaine had said they could share a bed, because the rent on the place made him a bit nervous, and there was no way they could fit even two twin beds in this room.

He stumbled across the box with the bedding they had purchased the day after finding the apartment, and near it a box of towels. Moving to the bathroom, Kurt laughed. There was an old claw-footed tub wedged along the full length of the bathroom on one side, with a showerhead, clearly a more recent addition, sprouting from the wall above it. On the other side was a toilet, a pedestal sink with a mirrored medicine chest attached to the wall above it, and what had to be the largest closet in the place, full of shelves for linens. Kurt placed the towels and bedding inside, then went to find his toiletries. He was claiming a shelf for them.

Returning to the living and dining area, Kurt realized for the first time that there was no hall closet. He decided it might be best to write down what he was considering looking for, so he pulled out his phone and began to make a list. Must have: shelves or hutch for kitchen, pot rack, hooks, shelves for living room, end tables, bedside tables, lamps, coatrack, shower curtain; Maybe: dresser, wardrobe, coffee table, 2nd bedroom? He thought about texting the list to Blaine, but remembered he was in a final. Looking around the room, he took stock. There was a decent sized window in the kitchen, along with two large floor to ceiling ones in the main living area. Another air conditioner was set in the wall to the side of one of the windows, and a radiator was to the side of the other. Kurt briefly wondered if they would be able to effectively heat and cool the space. He took a moment to let his mind wander to plans to slowly make the apartment into a true home for the two of them.

He heard a knock at the door. Opening it, he discovered that the deliverymen were there early with the bed. He directed them to the larger bedroom, where they set up the bed, centered against the longest wall. Kurt signed for the delivery and tipped the deliverymen and they left. Looking back into the room, he sighed as he saw that having the bed in the room instantly seemed to shrink it. As much as he loved the symmetry of having the bed centered, they needed the space more than pleasing aesthetics. He rotated the bed so that the long side was aligned with the longest wall and pushed it into the corner. If he got to sleep on the side of the bed he usually did, which made him think about the fact that he didn’t even know which side of the bed Blaine liked to sleep on, he’d be in the corner, which he didn’t really like, but he’d manage. Surveying the room once he’d moved the bed, he tried to reassess the space. He’d have to talk to Blaine about storage solutions for the room. Maybe they should have gotten one of those platform beds with drawers underneath, he thought. He went to the bathroom and pulled out the linens for the bed and made it. Blaine would probably not sleep here tonight, since he still had two more finals, one each of the next two days, but at least when he did make it to the apartment it would look nice. 

The next knock was the sofa being delivered, and as those deliverymen left they nearly knocked down the men bringing up the small dining table and four mismatched chairs. Kurt had plans to eventually refinish all five items, but for now they were usable, and he felt that the mismatched styles made the place look homey and lived in. After everyone had left, Kurt surveyed his new home. They had done well. Although the apartment was small, they had clearly defined a dining area and a living area, they had seating in the living area, and while cozy, it was not too crowded. In fact, Kurt felt there would be room for his hoped for coffee table without making the room feel claustrophobic. He was feeling quite pleased with himself.

Kurt was surprised by another knock on the door. Everything had been delivered, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. He opened the door to find Blaine, holding a bag of Chinese take-out. He launched himself at Blaine, who barely managed to move his arm with the food out of the way. Too late, he realized he was sweaty and gross from all the moving. Blushing, he pulled back, muttering, “I’m sorry.”

Laughing, Blaine leaned in to give him a quick kiss. “It’s okay. Excited?” 

“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Let’s put the food down, and I’ll give you the grand tour.” They placed the food on the table, then Kurt turned around, pointing to the living room, dining area, and kitchen in turn. Kurt took Blaine’s hand and led him to the smaller bedroom, and pointed out where his instruments were stashed, safe from harm. He showed him the bathroom, which they’d barely looked at when they looked at the apartment. Finally, Kurt led him to their bedroom, saying, “I haven’t put much away yet. I have my rack, but we’ll need more storage for our clothes. I was thinking maybe we could look for a dresser or bureau, and maybe a wardrobe. I think we could put both of them on the other long wall. The closet is right there by the door to the room. I haven’t put anything in it yet, since we’ll need to work out how to share it. . . .” He trailed off, looking at Blaine, who was looking at the bed.

“The bed’s in the corner,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” Kurt said. “I moved it there. The deliverymen centered it on the long wall, but it made the room feel too small and took up all the floor space. I can sleep in the corner if you want, I don’t mind, but I don’t know of another way we can make things fit in here. On the plus side, we’ll only need one bedside table.”

“I usually sleep on that side. I think I can live with being in the corner, but I reserve the right to change my mind,” Blaine told him. Kurt laughed. “What’s so funny?” Blaine demanded.

“I usually sleep on that side, too,” Kurt told him. They met each other’s eyes and dissolved into giggles.

“Except the time I was drunk, I guess we’ve never spent the entire night in the same bed, or for that matter been in the bed when we weren’t, um, you know,” Blaine mused. “I never even thought about asking you which side you sleep on.”

“Obviously, it never occurred to me either,” Kurt replied. “Think the relationship can survive?”

Blaine stepped close to him and kissed him deeply. It was by far the hottest, most passionate kiss they’d exchanged since they started dating again. “Oh, I think we can work something out,” he said, his voice deeper than usual, and carrying a note of promise Kurt didn’t miss. As he stepped back, he took a moment to look into Kurt’s eyes, then grabbed his hand and, changing gears, said lightly, “Let’s go eat.”

They talked about Kurt’s plans for the apartment over dinner, with Blaine making occasional suggestions and comments. After dinner, they settled into the couch, with Kurt in back and Blaine nestled between his legs, his back and head resting against Kurt’s chest. Kurt pulled a blanket over them. Blaine reached into his messenger bag and pulled out his notes and his iPad, with his electronic text book, and settled them in his lap. Kurt found the book he was in the middle of and read while Blaine studied. It was quiet, domestic, and comfortable. Kurt loved it.

A couple of hours after dinner, Blaine was starting to nod off. As he caught himself, he said, “I’ve got to go back to the dorm.”

“Stay with me,” Kurt begged, in a mock-whiny tone.

“Can’t. I can’t risk being late for a final. I know exactly how long it takes to get there from the dorm. Two more nights.” Blaine kissed him, then collected his things and left. 

After he was gone Kurt sighed and rolled up in the blanket that still smelled like Blaine on the couch. He didn’t want to sleep in the new bed until Blaine was there with him.

* * *

The next day brought the distraction of working at both Vogue.com and the evening shift at the restaurant, so Kurt didn’t have much time to unpack or to miss Blaine. He did, however, manage to sneak out at lunch and find a couple of lamps, an end table, and a small bedside table. He was most of the way through his shift at the restaurant when he got the text from Blaine telling him he was meeting with a study group and wouldn’t be able to see him that evening. He was disappointed, but since he didn’t get off until midnight, he knew it would have been a long shot anyway.

He made his way back to the apartment, debating whether to try to bathe again without a shower curtain, or just collapse. He felt something was out of place when he stepped into the apartment. It took him a moment to spot the pot rack and utensil rack leaning against the oven in the kitchen. A note was tied to the pot rack. Sorry, I snooped on your phone last night when you weren’t paying attention. I know you keep lists on it. I’ll be there tomorrow night. I love you. P.S. Check out the bathroom. Kurt nearly sprinted to the bathroom, where he found a pale blue shower curtain already installed. Balanced on the rim of the sink were large, soft, fluffy navy towels, hand towels, and washcloths. Kurt wasn’t sure when Blaine had managed to do all this, but he absolutely adored him for it. 

And then it sank in. The note said Blaine loved him. He sank to the edge of the tub and typed out a text with trembling fingers. I love you too. See you tomorrow.

* * *

Kurt was supposed to work the next night, but traded with one of the waitresses. She had wanted the weekend off, but was scheduled to work both Friday and Saturday. Kurt knew Blaine’s band would be playing both nights, and as much as he enjoyed watching and listening to Blaine play, he wanted to spend time with him alone more. The trade worked well for them both.

He begged Isabelle to let him off an hour early, then went to the farmer’s market on the way home. He was able to get fresh salad ingredients, herbs, free range chicken, eggs, juice, fruit and some really nice cheeses. A quick stop at an Italian market got him Arborio rice and prosciutto. Bringing his purchases home, he found that Blaine had beaten him there.

Blaine had brought the remainder of his things with Rob’s help, and was trying to figure out where to put them. Kurt told him to just drop everything in the second bedroom until they could work out what went where together.

Kurt sent Blaine to shower while he started dinner. Kurt tucked prosciutto and sage under the skin of each chicken breast before drizzling them with olive oil and sprinkling them with coarsely ground pepper and salt. He put them in the oven and then started the herbed risotto, which he was stirring when Blaine emerged from the bathroom, clad in only a towel. “I’m not sure where my clothes are,” he said sheepishly.

“Oops. Guess I left that off the grand tour. Your suitcases and boxes are by the window in our room,” Kurt told him. Blaine headed for the bedroom while Kurt continued to stir the risotto, reminding himself to cool down, because they were taking things slow and Blaine wasn’t ready for what Kurt’s body was insisting they were ready for.

Blaine reappeared as Kurt tossed the salad. He set the table while Kurt placed the food on two plates. They sat down to eat. They chatted about their schedules for the next few days and when summer classes would start. They finished and did the dishes. Once again Kurt thought about how nice it was to be here with Blaine, and how even everyday chores weren’t so tedious when they were together. As Blaine finished drying the last plate and putting it in its temporary cabinet – they would move once Kurt found a hutch – Blaine took Kurt’s hand. Kurt looked into Blaine’s face, which looked more serious than he thought it should. His heart started to beat a little faster as Blaine took a deep breath and began to speak. “I have a confession to make.” No, Kurt thought, this isn’t happening again! “I, um,” Kurt braced himself for whatever devastating news Blaine was about to deliver. “I knew where my clothes were.”

“Really? That’s your confession? You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Kurt snapped.

Blaine chuckled. “Yeah. I just kind of wanted to gauge your reaction.”

“Why?”

“To see if you were as ready for this as I am,” Blaine said, stepping closer and pulling Kurt to him, allowing Kurt to feel him hard against Kurt’s thigh. Blaine could feel Kurt growing hard against him.

“That isn’t fair. Do you know how long it took me to calm down after you came out in a towel? I kept telling myself you weren’t ready, I thought of every buzz kill and cock block I could, including Rachel in labor and hearing she and Finn at night, which I could do a play by play on, by the way.” Kurt exclaimed.

“Ugh,” Blaine groaned, stepping away. 

Kurt kissed the corner of his mouth. “Anyway, we are taking things slowly, and there’s something I need to talk to you about.” He led the way to the couch, patting the cushion next to him to get Blaine to sit down. He wasn’t quite sure how to put this. He had known they would have to have this conversation, but it had seemed too early in their new relationship. He hadn’t wanted to scare Blaine off or pressure him, he wanted to give him time and space to decide when he was ready. He’d had no idea Blaine was this close to wanting to rekindle their sex lives, so he hadn’t planned this conversation. “I know Adam wasn’t a virgin. He told me some of what he’d done and with whom, but no details other than he always used condoms. And we always did too. I don’t know exactly what you did with the guy you hooked up with.” Blaine blushed and looked at the floor. Kurt gently tucked a finger under his chin and applied a bit of pressure to get Blaine to look at him again. He continued, “Hey, no regrets, no blame. That’s not what this is about. I’m not asking what you did or didn’t do. But I’m guessing you don’t know his full sexual history, either, at least not for sure. And like Miss Holiday said, everyone’s got a wild card. So, I think we both need to go get tested. And we need to not have sex, well not that, until we get the results.”

This evening was definitely not turning out the way Blaine had hoped. But he knew Kurt was right. His shoulders slumped. “Okay. You’re right. When?”

“Well, we’re both free tomorrow morning. The sooner we do it, the sooner we get results.” Kurt told him.

“There’s a clinic just off campus. They’re pretty discrete. A lot of students go there when they don’t want to go to the health center,” Blaine said.

“Okay, it’s a date,” Kurt quipped, then laughed at Blaine’s grimace. “You’re right, poor choice of words. But remember, just because we won’t be having sex tonight doesn’t mean we can’t do other things. Remember just making out? Exploring each other? We have a lot of territory to rediscover before we start to have sex again anyway.” As he spoke, his eyes darkened. He leaned in and gave Blaine a deep kiss, then got up and started toward the bedroom; glancing over his shoulder, he inquired, “Coming?” Blaine was just a step behind him.

They stayed up too late, remembering each other’s favorite spots and discovering new ones. Although they didn’t technically make love, they did bring each other to orgasm several times. After cleaning up the last time, Blaine finally had to admit he was done. “If we don’t stop now I don’t think I’m going to survive the night, and we have, um, things to do in the morning. You can have our side of the bed. I’m too tired to care.”

* * *

Kurt quickly discovered that while Blaine might have consciously been too tired to care, it seemed that his body had other ideas. Kurt woke up sandwiched between Blaine and the wall, Blaine half on top of him. “Um, Blaine, Baby, I need to move.”

“’Kay,” came the sleepy response.

“Not so easy. You need to move too,” he told Blaine.

“No,” was the definitive, less than conscious, answer. 

Sighing, Kurt began the arduous process of disentangling himself from Blaine and squirming out from under him. Once free, he showered and made breakfast, taking time in the middle to throw a pillow at Blaine, yelling, “Get up!”

Blaine finally crawled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He was much more coherent by the time he emerged. Kissing Kurt’s cheek, he sat down at the table, exclaiming, “Good morning, Beautiful.”

Kurt muttered something inaudible in reply. Blaine continued to try to start a conversation to no avail. Finally, as they did the dishes, he asked, “Kurt, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well,” Kurt replied. It was the truth, just not all of it.

“Did I do something wrong last night?” Blaine wanted, no, needed, to know.

“No, Sweetheart, last night was wonderful. I promise,” Kurt told him.

“Was it me sleeping on top of you? I’m really sorry. I didn’t even know I was doing it,” Blaine said.

“No, that wasn’t it. I didn’t really notice until I woke up. Being all tangled up with you was actually really soothing and peaceful. At least until I woke up this morning and needed to use the bathroom and couldn’t get out from under you,” Kurt said.

Blaine blushed. “Yeah. I really am sorry about that.” Kurt didn’t reply. “We should go,” Blaine said, just to break the silence. 

He took Kurt’s hand and they made the short walk to the clinic. Kurt didn’t talk on the way there. As they approached the last intersection, and the clinic appeared in front of them, Kurt began walking slower, hanging back. Blaine stopped, and cupping Kurt’s chin, he brought his face up so he could look into his eyes. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. Please tell me. I won’t judge. I just can’t help if I don’t even know what the problem is.” Again, the response was muttered too quietly for Blaine to hear it. “What?”

“I don’t want to do this,” Kurt whispered in a rush. He didn’t know what had possessed him to suggest this, but now that the moment was at hand, he fervently wished he hadn’t.

“This was your idea,” Blaine pointed out.

“And it was a stupid one,” Kurt replied, “We still have a lot of stuff to get for the apartment, and we don’t have much time when we’re both off during store hours. We should just go shopping together instead.”

“It wasn’t a stupid idea. It was smart. You were right, this is something we need to do before we move on. I know it’s not much fun, but it’ll be okay. I promise.” Blaine insisted, beginning to walk again, with Kurt reluctantly following behind, grasping his hand as though his life depended on it.

Once in the clinic, Blaine deposited Kurt in the waiting area and went to speak with the personnel at the front desk. While he did, he kept an eye on Kurt to make sure he didn’t leave. He returned to Kurt with two clipboards full of paperwork. As they filled out form after form, Kurt asked, “Why do students come here instead of the health center?” He knew why one would go here instead of the health center at NYADA, which was staffed by only two people, one of whom appeared to basically be a school nurse, and the other of whom was apparently an athletic trainer, but Columbia had a full-fledged student health center.

“Some kids just prefer to avoid the quack shack, especially for certain things,” Blaine told him.

“Quack shack?” Kurt questioned.

Blaine laughed. “Yeah. They called it the same thing at every school I visited. Columbia’s is pretty good, and everything is supposed to be private, but some kids are afraid of their parents or the administration or even other kids finding out what they went there for, or what the results were, so they avoid it, at least for some stuff.”

As they finished filling out the forms they heard their names being called. “I asked if we could be together as much as possible,” Blaine explained when Kurt gave him a questioning look. They went to the back. They each had blood drawn, then went into separate rooms for the physical exam. When they were done Blaine paid at the counter on the way out.

Blaine placed his hand on the small of Kurt’s back as they walked, withdrawing it as he felt Kurt flinch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I need to get to work,” Kurt said. He ducked into a subway terminal and left Blaine standing alone.

Blaine knew it was a lie. The visit to the clinic hadn’t taken long, and he knew Kurt wasn’t due at Vogue.com until early afternoon. However, he could sense that Kurt didn’t want to talk and needed some space, although he still wasn’t sure why. Experience told him that pushing Kurt when he was like this was only likely to cause him to shut down and make him less likely to talk. If Blaine ever wanted to get to the bottom of this he would have to let Kurt go for now.

He went back to the apartment and left a note for Kurt. Kurt was working at the restaurant after he left Vogue.com, and wouldn’t be back until after Blaine left to go to his gig. The note read Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen. I’ll help if I can. You can have our side again, I’ll try to stay on the other side. He puttered around a bit, unpacking a few things, rearranging others in boxes or placing the boxes somewhere more convenient to find things. As soon as he thought he could reasonably arrive at the club, he threw both his electric and acoustic guitar cases over his shoulders, picked up the case for his keyboard, and left to walk to the club.

Kurt found the note when he arrived at home near midnight. He wanted to tell Blaine what was wrong, he really did. But how do you explain all the things you’re scared of to the person you love, especially when they’re things that you’re supposed to be over by the time you’re an adult? And how could he coherently explain that he was fine with Blaine touching him, but no one else? How could he explain his behavior with Adam in light of that, especially when he had initiated things? Could he really tell Blaine how he’d felt after each time he was with Adam, or explain why he kept doing it when it made him feel that way, when he couldn’t even explain it to himself? He wasn’t comfortable being vulnerable, physically or emotionally. Blaine was the only one who made him feel safe enough to be that open, but there were still some things he couldn’t discuss. He got ready for bed, wishing Blaine was there, and crawled into bed on the side near the wall, loving the fact that the pillow smelled like Blaine.

* * *

Kurt awoke the next morning panicking, on his back, unable to move, feeling that there was a huge weight on him. He slowly became more aware, realizing that there was a huge weight on him. One that, when upright, stood about five foot eight (although he liked to claim five nine). Once again, Blaine was on top of him. Not half on top, like last time, but fully on top. Kurt knew that muscle weighed more than fat, and that fact was brought home to him once again as he unceremoniously shoved Blaine’s well-muscled form off of his body. 

Over the next few days, they spent as much time together as they could, which wasn’t much. Blaine was waiting for Kurt to open up. Kurt was waiting for Blaine to forget the whole matter. Both waited in vain.

Each night, Blaine told Kurt to take “their” side of the bed, and each morning, Kurt woke up at least partially trapped under Blaine. Finally, on the fifth day, when Blaine appeared for breakfast, Kurt announced, “I give up. That is officially your side of the bed. No matter how generous your conscious mind is trying to be, your body or your unconscious or something has decided that is your side of the bed, and while I love holding you and being held by you and being a little tangled up with you in the morning, I’d also like to be able to get out of bed to pee without being in danger of having an accident before I can get up.” 

Blaine blushed and looked at the floor sheepishly. “Sorry?”

Kurt huffed a little, then went to give him a kiss. “It’s okay. This is going to take learning and compromise. And part of what I’ve learned is that you’re more attached to that side of the bed than I am, and I’m willing to give it up. Okay?” Blaine nodded.

* * *

That afternoon, they returned to the clinic to get their test results. Kurt was clearly nervous. “It’s going to be okay,” Blaine assured him. “Do you think they’re going to say something I should know about?”

“No,” Kurt said, “I just don’t like it here.” Blaine squeezed his hand.

They went to the front desk, and were each handed an envelope. “Do you want to open them here, or at the coffee shop down the block?” Blaine asked.

“Home,” Kurt answered definitively. Blaine gave him a curious look, then took his hand and walked back to the apartment.

Once back in the safety of the apartment, they debated for a few moments before deciding to open them together. Both breathed a sigh of relief upon reading the results, which confirmed what they had suspected: both men were clean. “It’s been over six months since I was with . . . Adam,” Kurt told Blaine, “At least, that way. So it’s been long enough that anything that was going to show up should have by now.”

“And it’s been over a year since I was with anyone, over a year and a half since I was with anyone other than you,” Blaine responded.

“Do you have band practice or a gig?” Kurt asked.

“No. You?”

“I when I traded shifts with Kara, she said she’d take tonight,” Kurt said. Blaine’s eyes gleamed.

Kurt had envisioned making a romantic meal for Blaine for their first time back together, but suddenly whatever could be delivered the fastest seemed like the best idea ever. Dinner turned out to be Chinese food eaten directly from the cartons while sitting on a blanket on the living room floor. They fed each other with chopsticks and laughed at the awkwardness of it. Eventually, kisses replaced food, and when they almost lay on a carton of fried rice, Blaine suggested moving to their room. Kurt quickly closed the cartons and placed them in the refrigerator.

By the time he got to the bedroom, Blaine was already shirtless, and his pants were undone. Kurt started to unbutton his own shirt, but Blaine pushed his hands away, taking over the task. He kissed his way down each bit of skin he revealed, groaning when he encountered Kurt’s undershirt, causing Kurt to laugh. Kurt began unbuttoning from the bottom, while Blaine worked from the top. As soon as the shirt was unbuttoned, Blaine shoved the undershirt up, fastening his lips around one of Kurt’s nipples, while pushing the shirt off his shoulders. Kurt moaned and tried to get rid of the shirt and undershirt while not losing contact with Blaine. Once the shirts were gone, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, bringing welcome relief from the pressure that had been building ever since he saw that look in Blaine’s eyes. Blaine tried to push them down, but couldn’t. He broke away from Kurt’s nipple breathlessly. “How the hell do you get these things off?” He demanded. Kurt chuckled and peeled the skinny jeans off his hips and legs, taking his underwear with them. Blaine quickly shoved his own pants and underwear to the ground. Both men were now completely naked, and suddenly Kurt was shy, although he couldn’t say why; Blaine had seen him naked before. He wrapped his arms around himself.

“No,” Blaine breathed softly, “let me see.” He took Kurt’s hands in his own, then stepped back so he could see him more clearly. “So beautiful, so perfect. Let me make love to you, please.” Kurt nodded.

Blaine led him to the bed, sitting down next to him. Kurt leaned in to kiss Blaine, and Blaine’s tongue swept across Kurt’s lower lip. Kurt’s lips parted and Blaine’s tongue was suddenly in his mouth, tasting, exploring, demanding. Kurt moaned into the kiss as Blaine pressed him back into the bed, shifting to straddle him, while never breaking the kiss. After a moment, Blaine broke away, saying, “On the bed, all the way.” Kurt scooted up until his head rested on a pillow. Blaine followed his movement, staying on top of him. Once Kurt was in place, Blaine began to work his way slowly down Kurt’s neck, paying attention to the little hollow behind his ear that made him moan, to his pulse points, down to the hollows of his collarbones, planting kisses, alternating with gentle nips and suction. Kurt was trying to hold on, but was quickly becoming a whimpering mass. He ran his hands down Blaine’s sides, stroking whatever he could reach. Blaine gasped as Kurt brushed his nipple, so it became Kurt’s new favorite plaything, and he worried it with his fingertips as Blaine returned the favor, using his mouth instead. The sound Kurt made when Blaine began sucking, hard, on his nipple was bordering on pornographic. They continued, exploring each other’s bodies with hands and mouths, until Kurt was on the verge of tears. It all felt so good, but it was too much and yet wasn’t anywhere near enough, and tonight, they could do what they’d been wanting to do. Tonight, they could have enough. 

“Please, now,” Kurt begged.

“What? Tell me what you want,” Blaine instructed. 

Kurt groaned. Blaine was well aware of what he wanted, and they both knew it. “You. Inside me. Now,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” Blaine told him, “but soon.” He reached down to stroke the soft skin just behind Kurt’s balls with one hand, smoothing the other up the inside of Kurt’s thigh. Kurt moaned and whimpered. This was a show Blaine would never get tired of watching. Kurt’s cock was achingly hard and leaking, and Blaine wanted to touch it so badly, but he had decided not to this time. Kurt reached down, and Blaine quietly said, “No, Baby. Hold onto the headboard or the pillows or me, but don’t touch yourself. Let me do it all this time.” Kurt didn’t say anything, but withdrew his hands, fisting them into the pillow near his head. Blaine dipped his head, sucking one, then both, of Kurt’s balls into his mouth. Kurt arched off the bed, crying out. Blaine took the opportunity to grab a pillow and thrust it under Kurt’s ass, letting his fingers brush farther back, against Kurt’s tight hole.

Kurt whimpered, then gasped. “We don’t have lube. Oh, God, um, there’s some lotion . . . .”

Blaine laughed, reaching under the pillows on what was now his side of the bed. He withdrew a new bottle of lube and a condom. “I took care of that, Baby. I’m taking care of you, now and always.”

Kurt dropped his head back to the pillow. “Thank God,” he said, not really realizing how much he called on a deity he didn’t believe in during sex. “But, um, could we, tonight, not use, um . . . .” he trailed off, blushing. 

Blaine knew he wasn’t talking about the lube, because he’d just been worried about it. “The condom?” He asked.

Kurt nodded. “We can if you want, but this is it for me. No one else. We were each other’s firsts, we should have been the only ones, we should be the last for each other. There’s no one else for me, and I want to feel you, just you, and we know we’re both clean, so, um,” he babbled.

“Okay,” Blaine whispered reverently. He’d hoped to get to this point, but he didn’t think it would be tonight. He used both hands to spread Kurt’s thighs wider, placing his hands under them to lift Kurt’s knees; the combination changed the angle of Kurt’s pelvis, tilting it forward and up, and causing his ass cheeks to spread slightly. “So, so beautiful,” Blaine muttered, staring a bit.

He reached for the lube, fumbling to open the cap, before growling, “God damned safety packaging!”

Kurt laughed, reaching for it. Although he kept his nails quite short, they were longer than Blaine’s, which were trimmed to the quick to facilitate his playing. “Let me. I’m glad it’s there. I certainly wouldn’t want lube someone had tampered with.”

While Kurt wrestled with the lube, Blaine spread his cheeks a bit more, slowly running his fingertips along Kurt’s perineum, up his crack, and back down, either skipping his entrance, skirting around it, or barely ghosting over it with each pass. “Keep that up and we’re never going to get there because I won’t be able to concentrate enough to open the lube,” Kurt warned. 

Blaine laughed and placed a fingertip directly on Kurt’s puckered hole, applying the slightest bit of pressure. “Better?” He teased.

“No,” Kurt snarled, as he finally made his way through the packaging and opened the lube, which he tossed to Blaine. Blaine caught it in his free hand, then, withdrawing his other hand from Kurt, he lubed his fingers. Once they were slick, he slowly circled Kurt’s entrance with his index finger, then, as Kurt began whimpering and begging, he slowly pushed in. 

Unlike their last first time, this time there was no pain, just a gentle stretch. Within seconds, Kurt was demanding more. Blaine refused, drawing everything out. He found Kurt’s prostate and brushed against it, causing Kurt to moan brokenly. When he finally relented and pulled out, only to push two fingers in, he repeated the process, jokingly reminding Kurt that this time they were going to take things slowly. Eventually, he worked his way up to three fingers. By this time Kurt was begging for more, for anything. Blaine pulled his fingers out, sitting back on his heels to watch for a moment as Kurt’s hole clenched around nothing. Kurt reached down again, and Blaine caught his hand, reminding him again not to touch. Once he was sure Kurt was not going to reach for himself again, Blaine slicked his cock up with lube, then leaned forward. “Ready, Sweetheart?” He asked.

“Please,” Kurt begged. “I need you, need you inside, so badly.”

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Blaine soothed as he pushed in slowly.

Kurt was sure he’d never felt so good before. He wasn’t sure why, but this felt better than any time before, not just the times with Adam, but better than any time with Blaine, too. He didn’t have any time to analyze why that might be, because Blaine bottomed out, then lay down on top of him, reaching under his shoulder blades to lift his upper torso slightly. At this angle, Blaine was hitting his prostate with every thrust, while alternating kisses with nipping and sucking on his lower neck and upper chest. The coarse hair that trailed from Blaine’s navel to his cock provided the friction Kurt needed. Kurt sensed the tension building, and saw stars while everything seemed to go black around the edges as he came, hot and sticky, between them, coating their stomachs and chests.

Blaine smiled as he felt Kurt come, clenching around him. Kurt was so hot, so tight, he never wanted the feeling to end, and so he held back, continuing to pound into Kurt until Kurt began to whimper. He sounded exhausted, and Blaine knew he’d pushed Kurt beyond his usual comfort zones, and he was now in that post-orgasmic state in which he was oversensitive to everything, and the lines began to blur and pleasure tipped toward pain. Finally, knowing Kurt couldn’t deal with any more, he let himself go, coming hot and hard inside Kurt.

After he came, Blaine’s energy was suddenly gone. He had no idea how he’d held out that long, or even how long it had been, although it had seemed to be forever. He collapsed on top of Kurt. A few moments later, he pulled out, drawing soft gasps from both of them. Rolling to the side, he brushed Kurt’s cheek, inquiring, “Baby? Are you okay?”

Kurt’s eyelids fluttered, and he took a moment to focus. “Yeah, great, that was wonderful,” he said, then gasped and winced as he shifted to look at Blaine. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little bit sore.”

“How bad?”

“Um, I don’t know. This feels like one of those times when I may be sore for a day or two,” he admitted, shyly.

“It’s happened before?” Blaine had to know.

“Yeah, but only with you,” Kurt told him.

“You never told me,” Blaine said, sounding hurt. How could he have hurt Kurt, and how could Kurt have hidden it from him?

“Because I didn’t want you to know. It’s a good kind of sore, and it’s definitely worth it,” Kurt explained. “It’s just that now, since we’re living together, I don’t really think I can always hide it.”

“Don’t, okay? No secrets, no lies. That’s the only way this is going to work,” Blaine insisted. 

Kurt nodded in agreement, leaning forward to kiss him, “Can we exempt presents from that?” he teased. Blaine agreed, then went to get a warm washcloth to clean them both up. 

Blaine cleaned himself quickly in the bathroom, then brought the cloth back to Kurt. After sponging off his chest and stomach, Blaine gently pressed his legs open and up so he could clean his hole. He winced a little when he saw how red and swollen it was. “Baby, this might hurt a bit, I’m really sorry,” he apologized. Kurt sucked in a sharp breath and tried not to whimper as Blaine gently cleaned the small amount of lube and semen from him. Suddenly an idea struck Blaine. “Honey, I know you’re tired, but a bath might help. We’ve got that wonderful huge tub, and now’s the perfect time.” Kurt nodded in acquiescence, his eyes closing. Blaine ran the bath, then returned to the bedroom, gathering a sleeping Kurt into his arms and taking him to the bathroom. Stepping into the tub himself, he lowered Kurt into the tub, then settled behind him. Kurt murmured as the warm water enveloped him, but Blaine whispered to him comfortingly, pulling Kurt against him. Kurt dozed on Blaine’s shoulder until the water started to cool. When goose bumps began appearing on his skin, Blaine gently roused him, helping him to step out so Blaine could dry him off and then tuck him back into bed. Kurt slept, while Blaine watched him for a while, thinking how right this felt. He finally drifted off himself, Kurt in his arms, thinking that he would happily spend the rest of his life taking care of the exquisite man sleeping in his embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More changes and adjustments. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading this, and I'm so sorry it's going up later today than usual (I was stuck at the vet and my life is generally chaos right now). Please, please leave comments. I really want to know what you think. Also, I have a companion series of one shots related to this story. I will take requests for the companion series, so if there's anything you want to read more about, or anything you want more in depth, or really anything else you want me to write related to this 'verse, please let me know.

CHAPTER 7

The next roommate crisis arose the following week when the first real heat wave of the summer hit. Neither Blaine nor Kurt were naturally morning people, but they were able to be functional in the morning when work or school required it. However, if only one had to be up early, they usually let the other sleep. Kurt was already at work when Blaine awoke, sweating, to find all the windows open to the sticky heat. He closed all the windows and turned on all the air conditioners, which had been largely unnecessary during the mostly mild spring weather they’d had up till then. When Kurt arrived home, he opened all the windows and turned off the air conditioners, then went to bed. Blaine came home after his gig and closed the windows, turning on the air conditioners. Kurt awoke freezing the next morning. It resulted in their first real fight since getting back together. Kurt woke Blaine up yelling about the cost of running the air conditioners and how uncomfortably cold it was. Blaine countered that it was perfectly comfortable, they’d manage the money somehow (which Kurt knew meant asking Blaine’s parents for more money if necessary), his instruments needed climate control to stay in good condition, and they could be stolen if the windows were left unlocked, never mind open. Kurt pointed out they were on the fifth floor, and Blaine pointed out there was a fire escape a determined thief could use to climb up as well as down. Kurt insisted no thief would be looking for such things in a building populated almost entirely by students. Blaine countered that a large percentage of the students living in the building were music students, and many of the others were arts students who played something in addition to doing whatever they were majoring in, and there were constantly people coming and going with instruments, so it wouldn’t be a stretch for a thief to think he could find valuable instruments in the building. They went back and forth this way until Kurt had to leave for work. He arrived home to find a note that said the air conditioning was non-negotiable, both due to theft concerns and instrument condition, but that they could work something out on temperature. Kurt stayed up to talk to Blaine, and eventually they arrived at compromise. The temperature would not be allowed to stray from a set agreed-upon range, windows would be open only if the outside temperature was within the agreed upon range and it wasn’t raining, and only if someone was home; Kurt would dress in layers until he was comfortable and use more blankets at night, while Blaine would wear less and sleep with only the sheet on his side of the bed. Personally Kurt felt he came out ahead on that one, since he basically got Blaine to agree to be half naked while at home during the summer. It was just one of many adjustments for both of them.

* * *

Later the same week, Santana called, asking the address so she could see the new place and bring them a housewarming gift. The gift turned out to be “feminine influence” in the form of herself: she arrived suitcase and pillow in tow, announcing that she was moving in. “Turns out the kid gets your old room, even though he doesn’t pay rent and isn’t even counted in the rent calculation, and now that you’re gone Rachel expects me to be available to babysit twenty-four seven. I had to cancel a date because she just left him with me without asking, and I have no idea where Finn was,” she explained, “and another time I picked up an extra shift so I was home later than expected. She hadn’t asked me to watch him, but started screaming at me for not being there to do it the minute I walked in.”

As much as Kurt was loving living with just Blaine, the rent did make him nervous: it was over a thousand dollars each month for each of them. And he couldn’t help but sympathize with her plight living with Rachel. As much as he liked her, he was becoming increasingly aware that Rachel wasn’t really “mother” material. He excused himself and grabbed Blaine’s hand, walking into their bedroom to talk. “I know we said it would just be us, Baby, but I really feel sorry for her. She didn’t have a baby, but she’s more responsible with him than Rachel is. And she has to be, she has to plan her life around him, as long as she lives there, just like I did. Until they live alone, Rachel and Finn aren’t going to grow up and take responsibility for Stephen. Santana should get to have this time without worrying about a baby, just like we do. And I have to admit, as a roommate, she’s not any worse than Rachel. She’ll probably be better here, since she’ll have her own room. But if you say no, that’s it, we’ll tell her no; it’s up to you.”

Sighing, Blaine said, “I was really enjoying it being just us. But I get it, and you’re right. She can stay, at least for a while. On the other hand, I’m hoping she finds someplace, or someone, else, preferably sooner rather than later.” 

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, and it was then Blaine realized his suspicions were correct: although he had never mentioned money, he was still worried about it. Blaine wished Kurt could just relax and let it go. He had plenty of money. His parents accepted him, and they had grown to like Kurt. After the near tragedy at his first high school, they were just thrilled he had fallen in love with someone as kind and gentle as Kurt, that the feeling was mutual, and they were in a place where they faced much less resistance than they had encountered in Ohio. They would make sure he was fine financially, and as long as they were together, that extended to Kurt as well.

They returned to the living room to tell Santana the news. “Great! We’re roomies!” She exclaimed, following that with, “By the way, a couple of guys who live in the building in Bushwick have a truck; they’re coming this afternoon to deliver the bed. Since you left it, I took your old one.” The two men laughed at how confident she’d been that she would be allowed to stay. 

They moved Blaine’s instruments, which had gradually increased in number since moving to New York. He’d gotten a new electric guitar for Christmas, and his parents had brought one or two instruments up on each trip to visit, so the collection now included five guitars in addition to the one he’d brought the first time, an electric piano and an electric keyboard, and an extra violin, plus the ones he’d initially brought to college. Kurt was just glad the drum kit was still in Ohio; if it was there, they’d probably have to sleep with it. A few moved into their bedroom, the rest to the living room. Since they were now in shared space, Santana received a lecture on caring for them, including air conditioner use. She responded with an annoyed, “Jeez, Hobbit, do you have enough?” Her smile, however, betrayed the fact that she was glad to be there.

* * *

The three quickly fell into a routine of summer classes and odd working hours. They learned each other’s quirks and preferences, and where each would and would not compromise. It ended up being much more comfortable with Santana there than Blaine had feared. As she had already lived with Kurt, she knew what she could and could not get away with, and Kurt was far pickier than he was, so she really didn’t bother him. The rare occasions when all three of them were both at home and conscious usually found Kurt and Blaine snuggled together on the couch, with Santana draped over Kurt’s easy chair, while all three studied or worked on classwork. It was comfortable and domestic.

* * *

Outside of her own room, Santana had no plans or desires for furniture or decoration. She was happy to leave all that to the boys. Kurt and Blaine gradually filled in the items on Kurt’s list, adding decorating touches as they went when they were able. Blaine also discovered that there were areas where Kurt absolutely would not compromise, and oddly enough, furniture turned out to be one of them.

“No, absolutely not!” Kurt insisted.

“But why?” Blaine wanted to know. “They’re cheap and functional, and practically a rite of passage. Name one person you’ve ever known who’s gone to college and hasn’t had a set of shelves made out of cinder blocks and one-by-twelves.”

“Me,” Kurt responded flatly. “Never had them, never will. We are buying proper book shelves.”

Really, Blaine didn’t care. He was just trying to find something that would work that wouldn’t cause Kurt to worry about money. Kurt had his quirks. He would shop antique stores, flea markets, and street fairs for good deals; he would refinish and reupholster things himself, practically rebuilding them from the ground up to make them truly unique, make them fit his sense of style, or simply make them serviceable again. However, apparently the tried and true college student bookcase solution so offended his sensibilities that it was out of the question, no matter how much he was concerned about money. It was the last item on the list, and they weren’t even really looking for pretty, just sturdy and cheap, but that particular combination was proving hard to find. Blaine was sick of stacking books on the floor, and he knew the disorder was bothering Kurt, so he quietly went to a furniture store, laid down a credit card, and arranged for delivery. He’d deal with Kurt’s protests later.

* * *

Near the end of summer, they were awoken by Santana yelling into her phone, “Calm down, Brit! I can’t understand what you’re saying when you’re crying this hard.” The boys wandered sleepily across the hall into Santana’s room to find out what was going on. Listening to only Santana’s end of the conversation didn’t fill in many blanks. They figured out only that Brittany was upset about something, and that Santana told her to come to New York and they’d figure everything out. The boys looked at each other, wondering if they were getting a new roommate.

After she hung up, Santana explained. Not surprisingly, Brittany had flunked out of MIT after one semester, even on the specialized study program, once the powers that be figured out her random doodling was just that, and any patterns were pure coincidence. She had returned home to Ohio and gotten a job as a waitress at Breadstix, where being pretty and friendly seemed to count more than efficiency or accuracy, luckily for her. Sam was still living there, in the apartment over the Hummel’s garage at the house, while attending community college and working for Burt part-time. He’d asked Brittany out, and they’d begun dating again. However, he talked constantly about transferring to Ohio State, where Mercedes was attending classes. He talked to Mercedes on the phone all the time, and they texted nearly nonstop. Somehow, Brittany had finally figured out that Sam was still in love with Mercedes, and that was why he wanted to transfer: to be with her. Now Brittany was devastated.

“Are you getting back together?” Kurt asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Santana answered honestly. “I do know it’s over between her and Sam, for good this time, I think. And I’m not seeing anyone, so maybe. I don’t know if she wants to, I don’t know if there’s still anything there even if she does.”

“If you’re both open to it, it’s worth at least exploring, seeing if there’s something still between you. Trust me on this,” Blaine told her softly, patting her shoulder as he got up to follow Kurt, returning to their room.

Brittany arrived a few days later. She and Santana decided she should stay in New York for a while. The two were dating again within a week, and soon, it was as if they’d never been apart. Santana helped her get a job as a waitress, but restaurant patrons in New York weren’t as forgiving as those in Ohio, and she was quickly fired. After that, Santana, Blaine, Kurt and Rachel all checked with every contact they knew, focusing on what Brittany did best: dance. Eventually, they were able to find her jobs teaching dance in a studio and at a community center, where she excelled.

A couple of months after Brittany arrived, Santana sent Kurt and Blaine each a text: We all need to talk. Are you available for dinner tomorrow? My treat.

It took a bit of negotiation to clear their schedules and get someone to cover for them in classes and at work, but they both managed to clear their schedules. They let her know, and she told them to be at home at six the next evening.

Shortly after six, Brittany and Santana walked into the apartment carrying take-out bags from a local Italian restaurant. The restaurant had provided paper plates and plastic flatware, because Santana told them it was for a picnic. She insisted on using them so she wouldn’t have to do dishes. Soon they were all seated at the table, Kurt praying the sauce didn’t seep through the plates to his newly refinished table-top. “What gives, Santana?” He demanded, more than a little annoyed. He was going to have to work Friday, Saturday and Sunday at the restaurant in exchange for this one night, and he already had shifts at the bar scheduled for late evening, which meant he was going to have to give up seeing Blaine perform and decide between studying and sleeping.

Santana smiled, reached over, and took Brittany’s right hand. Her left rested in her lap. “Well,” she began slowly, “We wanted to tell you we’re going to move out at the first of the year. We’re going to find our own place. You’ve been great roommates, but after all, a married couple should have their own place, not live with roommates.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped; he was speechless. Blaine recovered a little quicker. “Wait, what? You got married?”

“Not yet,” Santana clarified. “But we’re engaged.” Brittany held up her left hand, displaying a thin gold band with a tiny diamond. “We’re going to get married next May, right after the end of the semester. Oh, and I’m starting at NYU in the spring. Most of my credits from Kentucky will transfer, and all of my community college hours, so I’ll be about half way through my sophomore year.”

Congratulations were exchanged.

That night, while getting ready for bed, Kurt was unusually quiet. “What’s wrong?” Blaine asked, coming up behind him and putting his arms around Kurt’s waist.

“Nothing. They just seem so young to be getting married, and they just got back together. It seems so fast,” Kurt replied.

“Yeah, but I don’t think they ever stopped loving each other,” Blaine said.

“Did we?” Kurt asked.

Blaine was quiet for a moment before saying softly, “I don’t think so, not really. I think that’s why what we did to each other hurt so much. If we hadn’t still loved each other, we wouldn’t have been able to hurt each other the way we did.”

“Why is it so much easier for them than it was for us?” Kurt mused sadly.

“I don’t know. Maybe because for them, the main problem was distance. Now they’re together again, so the problem is gone. For us, the problem started as distance, but then that led to another problem, which led to others. So even once we were geographically close again, we still had those other issues standing in our way.” Blaine said. “But we’ve worked past them, and we’re together again.”

“Mmm. Have we? Gotten past them?” Kurt wanted to know.

“Yeah, we have,” Blaine affirmed, pulling Kurt to the bed with him. Kurt remained quiet and pensive until they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are calorie-free chocolate chip cookies!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please, please leave comments. I truly do want to hear your opinion. Also, if you want me to do a one shot related to this story, please let me know. I am taking suggestions. I already have two done, but I can't put them up yet because we haven't reached the part of this story to which they relate yet. Comments (and suggestions - for one shots - this story is already completed) are warm chocolate chip cookies :)

CHAPTER 8

As idyllic as their relationship seemed, it was sometimes glaringly apparent that no relationship is perfect, and that they didn’t necessarily know everything about each other. Blaine liked to mentally classify their disputes, disagreements and debates into roommate issues, such as the debate over bookshelves and the air conditioning argument, which could occur between any random roommates, and couple issues, which occurred because they were a couple, such as the negotiation over the side of the bed. He grew annoyed with himself when he couldn’t figure out which way to categorize the next matter that became a point of contention.

A few weeks after Santana and Brittany’s announcement, Kurt and Blaine were having breakfast before heading to class. Kurt suddenly proclaimed, “You need to go get a flu shot. Flu season’s starting early this year, and it’s supposed to be really bad.”

“Okay,” Blaine agreed. He appreciated the fact that Kurt was concerned about his health, he knew it was a good idea, and he intended to do it. Just not today, because he was already running late for class, it was his busiest class day, plus he had private lessons today, and band practice. He’d be lucky if he was able to grab lunch, and it was looking like dinner would either be leftovers once he got home around midnight, or maybe cereal, if there weren’t any leftovers. He didn’t have time to go stand in line at the quack shack for a flu shot.

The days slipped past. Every so often, Kurt would ask him about the flu shot, and remind him how important it was. Blaine would promise to get one as soon as he could, and he really meant it. He was just so busy that somehow he never made it.

One morning a few weeks later, Kurt asked him again. Again, he promised. “Today,” Kurt insisted.

“Today,” Blaine promised. He’d noticed a lot of students were starting to miss classes, mostly due to flu. He was making copies of his notes for several friends who’d been stricken. He had a busy morning with classes, but his private lessons had been canceled: two of his teachers were out with the flu, and the third was out of town. The two kids he was giving lessons to both had the flu. For once the band wasn’t practicing or playing, and the student health center was open late tonight. He could definitely make it work today.

Both men headed to class, Kurt making his way to the subway while Blaine made the short walk to Columbia’s campus. By the time he arrived at his first class, he was tired and feeling run down, which baffled him, since he’d gotten a decent night’s sleep the night before. During his second class, he developed a headache and by the end of class, he was aching all over. In his third class, his chemistry lab, he began to shiver. He was trying to pour a chemical from a test tube into a beaker to complete the experiment, but his hands were shaking. His lab partner quickly grabbed the test tube before it could spill onto the lab table. As her hand brushed Blaine’s, she gasped. “Oh, my God, you’re burning up!”

“I’m fine,” Blaine managed to say through chattering teeth.

Ignoring him, his lab partner raised her hand, attracting the attention of the teaching assistant supervising the lab. “Blaine isn’t feeling well. We’ve finished the experiment, and I can write it up later. Can I take him to the health center?”

Casting a quick glance at Blaine, the TA rapidly said, “Sure. Is anyone else done? She could use some help.” The two guys at the next table volunteered to help. They usually didn’t manage to finish the experiments, and rarely correctly even when they did; Blaine guessed they were going to beg to copy the lab report, but at this point he didn’t care. The guys supported him, while his lab partner carried his backpack. 

Once at the health center, he was ushered back to an exam room quickly. His fellow students waited for him. The nurse swabbed his nose for a flu test, which came back positive. He was given a prescription that the nurse told him would lessen the duration and severity of the illness. He was then ushered out of the health center. His classmates helped him make the short walk home and up to his apartment. They told him they weren’t worried about getting sick, as one of them had already had the flu, and the other two had gotten flu shots earlier. 

As soon as the door closed, separating him from the friends who had helped him home, Blaine stumbled back to the bedroom. Blearily, he thought that he should shower, but he couldn’t manage to muster enough energy, so he just lay down on the bed, still dressed, and rolled up in the covers, shivering. Several hours later, Kurt found him there, having barely moved.

Kurt was surprised. He wasn’t home late, and while he knew Blaine was going to get home earlier than he did tonight, he expected him to still be up. He’d been looking forward to spending a little time with Blaine this evening. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch Blaine’s cheek. He gasped when he felt the heat radiating from Blaine’s skin, and realized Blaine was shivering. He picked up his phone and called Brittany, asking her to buy a thermometer on her way home. Casting his gaze around the room, he saw a piece of paper on the bedside table; looking, he saw the prescription. Reading what it was for, Kurt instantly realized Blaine had the flu. Now that the mystery was solved, he knew what to do, and immediately went into action.

He called Brittany back and told her not to bother with the thermometer, since he needed to go to the pharmacy anyway. He then left; Blaine had been alone most of the day, another half hour wasn’t going to make much difference. First, he dropped off Blaine’s prescription. Next, he puttered around the pharmacy, picking up the things he needed: a thermometer, some Gatorade, some Tylenol and Motrin, and a few more over the counter remedies that might make Blaine feel better. He returned to the prescription counter and glared at the pharmacist as if that would make her move faster. She finally called Blaine’s name, and Kurt went up to the counter, explaining that he was Blaine’s boyfriend and that Blaine was home in bed. She wasn’t really concerned; there was no real black market in flu medication. She rang up his purchases, and he left the store. On the way back to the apartment, he stopped at a deli and picked up soup for both of them and a veggie sandwich for himself. He finally made his way back to the apartment, preparing to take care of Blaine.

He put the food in the refrigerator, along with the Gatorade. Getting a glass of water, he headed to the bedroom. After placing the water and medication on the bedside table, he began the arduous task of waking Blaine. “Come on, Baby, wake up. I need to take your temperature,” he pleaded. Blaine did little more than groan and attempt to roll away from him. He finally resorted to threatening, “Blaine, if you don’t sit up and let me take your temperature right now, I’m going to put the thermometer somewhere else!” Blaine finally struggled into a half-sitting position and let Kurt put the thermometer under his tongue. A few minutes later Kurt drew the thermometer from his mouth, whistling as he read it, “103.3. Looks like you won the jackpot.” He handed Blaine a pill from the prescription bottle and a couple of Tylenol, then the glass of water. “Take them,” he instructed.

Blaine shook his head listlessly. “Throat hurts,” he croaked.

“I know, Sweetie, but these will help,” he told him, adding a muttered, “eventually.” He knew there wasn’t much he could do other than try to make Blaine as comfortable as possible and wait out the illness. A call to Carole had confirmed what he already knew, that the medication might shorten the duration of the flu by a day or two, and might make the symptoms less severe, but it wasn’t a magic bullet. It took a little more wheedling, but he finally succeeded in getting Blaine to take the medication.

Next he managed to get Blaine to the bathroom, where he drew a lukewarm bath. Blaine complained it was too cold; Kurt sympathized, but he knew Blaine’s shivering and feeling cold were the result of the fever, and he was afraid a hot bath would make things worse, and so he insisted that Blaine get into the tepid water. After watching him for a minute, Kurt decided he wouldn’t drown if left alone briefly, so he returned to the bedroom and changed the sweaty bed linens, spraying the mattress with disinfectant for good measure. He then returned to the bathroom and helped Blaine out of the tub. After getting him dried off and into fresh pajamas, he announced that it was time for Blaine to eat. Blaine protested, but Kurt was insistent. A combination of pleading, cajoling, and threatening eventually resulted in Blaine sipping a few spoonfuls of soup that Kurt fed to him and taking a few swallows of Gatorade. More than that Blaine flatly refused. Sighing, Kurt gave up for the moment and put Blaine back to bed. He then took the linens down to the laundry room in the basement, placed them in a washer, and returned to the apartment.

He sat down and tried to study, but couldn’t focus. He was worried about Blaine, and concerned about his health, but mostly, he was furious. He had told Blaine several times to get a flu shot, but he never did, because he was always so busy, and now he was sick. This was exactly what Kurt had feared would happen. 

The next day, he woke Blaine to give him his medication, then told him when he should take it again. He set alarms on Blaine’s phone to wake him so he would take the medicine, and told him to be sure to eat and drink, so he could keep up his strength and remain hydrated. He made him a breakfast tray with scrambled eggs and a bit of yogurt, things that would be easy on his throat. He placed it on Blaine’s lap in bed and explained that there was soup in the refrigerator for lunch. He placed two bottles of Gatorade, a pitcher of water, and a glass on the small nightstand. Blaine nodded obediently and promised to take care of himself. Kurt gave him a long look and then kissed his forehead and left for class.

He returned that evening after work to the sound of the alarm blaring. He found the breakfast tray, untouched, on the floor next to the bed. No soup was gone from the refrigerator, and there were no dirty dishes. The Gatorade was unopened where Kurt had left it, the pitcher still full and the glass still dry and empty. Counting the pills in the prescription bottle, Kurt realized Blaine had not taken his medication at all that day, other than the one dose he had given him that morning. Blaine was curled up on the bed in a fetal position, fever blazing, drenched in sweat. Sighing, Kurt repeated his routine from the night before. The major difference was that once he made it back to the apartment after his trip to the laundry room, instead of studying, he called in favors at work, and traded future favors, to get his shifts covered so he could stay home and take care of Blaine, who obviously wasn’t going to take care of himself when he was this sick.

Three days later, Blaine still felt sick, but was doing well enough that it was less of a struggle to get him to eat and drink and take his medicine. It was Monday, and Kurt decided to chance returning to class and work, although he dropped by the apartment after classes, before going in to work, to make sure Blaine was behaving. He was, having taken the correct medication at the correct times, and having voluntarily eaten small meals and snacks during the day, and having had enough to drink to stay hydrated.

By the weekend, Blaine was beginning to feel human again, although he was still tired and run down. Kurt, however, was feeling anything but human. He was achy, the exhaustion brought on by worry and the stress of taking care of Blaine on top of classes and work was becoming unbearable, and he had a sore throat. Blaine noticed and insisted he return to the clinic where they had been tested several months earlier; having heard stories about NYADA’s “health center,” he didn’t bother to suggest it. The clinic, while more expensive, was closer and boasted the advantage of having a fully qualified, licensed staff. The clinic personnel confirmed Blaine’s fears: Kurt had the flu. 

By the time they returned home, Kurt was running a fever. Blaine put Kurt to bed, then wracked his brain for what to do. He’d never really taken care of someone who was sick before. He thought about what his mom and Tina had done for him when he was sick, and what Kurt had done for him over the last week and a half. As he was thinking, Kurt’s phone rang. The caller ID told him it was Kurt’s dad. Answering it, he began, “Hey, Mr. Hummel, it’s Blaine. Kurt has the flu and he’s in bed asleep right now.”

“Who’s taking care of him?” Burt got right to the point.

“Um, me. At least I’m trying, but I don’t really know what to do,” Blaine admitted.

“Carole told me you were sick a while back. I was actually calling Kurt to see how you were doing,” Burt told him.

“Yeah. I had the flu, but I’m fine now, just a little tired. Is there anything Kurt likes when he’s sick? Anything I can do for him?” Blaine inquired.

Burt laughed a little. “Well, he likes to be left alone, but you can’t really do that because he won’t take care of himself. You’re going to have to make sure he eats and drinks enough, and that he takes any medicine he’s supposed to have, because left to his own devices, he won’t do any of it. You’re also going to have to make sure he takes it easy for a while. He doesn’t get sick often, but when he does he doesn’t recover fast and he tries to go back to normal life too early and just ends up sicker. You also need to try to take it easy yourself, rest as much as you can, because you’re still recovering and it won’t do Kurt any good for you to get sick again. Oh, and you should apply for combat pay because Kurt will fight tooth and nail against any attention or attempts to take care of him. He’s great at taking care of everyone else, but he’s the worst patient in the world.”

“Thanks,” Blaine laughed. What Burt was saying was so in line with everything he’d ever known about Kurt. “I’m just not sure how this happened. He kept after me to go get a flu shot, but I was busy. I was actually going to get one in the afternoon the day I got sick. I just assumed he’d already gotten one, but I guess he was too busy too.”

Burt sighed. He really shouldn’t get involved in his son’s relationships, he knew that, although he’d done what he could to get Kurt and Blaine back together before it had finally happened. This, however, was something Blaine should know about, something that could affect their relationship, and if it was going to be a deal breaker for him, better it happen now than months or years down the road. “Are you planning to stay with Kurt? What I’m asking is, do you think that this is a long term thing? Are you two going to stay together?”

Blaine was taken aback. He and Kurt had only started talking about the future at Finn and Rachel’s wedding, and they hadn’t really discussed details or timing. He wondered what Kurt had said to his dad. “Yes. I mean, we haven’t discussed much about it, but we’re in love, and I, at least, plan on sticking around. Why?”

“Kid, I’m going to try not to say too much, and don’t talk to him about it while he’s still sick, but this isn’t the last time this is going to happen, if you stick with him. I mean, all couples tend to give each other colds and stuff, that’s no big deal; what I’m talking about is this: Kurt doesn’t want you to get sick, he wants you to do all you can to prevent it, but he may not take the same steps for himself.” Burt finished, feeling slightly guilty about having initiated the conversation.

No amount of prying on Blaine’s part could get Burt to elaborate or explain why Kurt would behave that way. Burt would say only that Blaine needed to have that conversation with Kurt, when he wasn’t sick.

Blaine decided to follow what Kurt had done for him, to the extent he could remember it. As Burt had predicted, Kurt was belligerent and uncooperative, but Blaine was stronger than he was when he was sick, and not above picking him up and forcing him to sit up to eat, feeding him like a child, and carrying him to the bath. He called and told Mike he couldn’t come to band practice or the gigs that week, pleading the need to catch up on classwork and lingering effects of the flu. Like a sick boyfriend, he thought. He also arranged for friends to take class notes for him the first few days of the next week. He stayed at the apartment, leaving only to pick up soup and occasionally sandwiches at the deli down the street that Kurt liked, doing his best to care for his ailing boyfriend. 

Luckily, Kurt’s illness was less severe than Blaine’s had been, and by Wednesday, most of his acute symptoms were gone. He was tired of soup, and his throat felt better, so Blaine ordered Chinese. He thought it was a safe bet, since if the food irritated Kurt’s throat, they could fall back on the egg drop soup. They were settling down to eat, Blaine asking if he was sure he could handle the solid food, when Kurt blew up. “Yes, I’ve told you I’m fine. If you’d just done what I told you, I never would have gotten sick!”

Blaine was stunned. “I know I waited too long to get a flu shot, but I was planning to do it. I’m sorry. But you can’t blame me, since you obviously didn’t get one either,” Blaine defended himself.

“If you’d gotten one, I wouldn’t have needed to,” Kurt retorted.

Kurt’s attempted logic made no sense. “Kurt, Baby, you still need a flu shot, just like I do. I’m not your only source of exposure. You go to school, the office at Vogue.com, you work two jobs waiting tables in crowded places, you ride the subway and walk on crowded streets. Anyone could have coughed or sneezed on you and gotten you sick. I agree that it was probably your exposure to me this time, but next time? It could come from anywhere.”

Kurt’s response was to withdraw and become silent. No matter how much Blaine tried to initiate the discussion, Kurt would not have any part of it. Blaine silently promised himself he would bring it up again when Kurt was fully recovered, but, as with so many things, their busy life got in the way, and it never really came up again, although it remained a nagging issue in the back of Blaine’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of the way Kurt is behaving doesn't make logical sense, but he does have a reason; actually, he has several, which you will find out about later. I will warn you, it'll be much later. It's one of those things that will come near the end, and then you'll kind of think, "Oh, that's why he acted like that back in chapter 8!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in this chapter. I considered breaking it up, but that resulted in several small, choppy chapters and still had a long chapter, and it just flowed better to leave it as one chapter. I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 9

All four roommates had traveled out to Bushwick in early November to attend the celebration of Stephen’s first birthday. They had taken the opportunity to invite the fledgling Berry-Hudson family to Thanksgiving at their apartment. With the confusion of being sick, neither of the men thought to cancel the gathering, and once Kurt was back on his feet he realized he was woefully behind in preparations. He drafted Blaine, Brittany and Santana, sending them on errands to buy everything he didn’t feel he had to personally select himself. Things were complicated by multiple factors. The aftermath of the flu continued to make him tire easily; he had to make not one, but two complete Thanksgiving dinners, one of which had to be traditional, the other vegan; none of his roommates knew how to cook; and the apartment had to be baby-proofed to protect Stephen, who was in full-blown explorer mode, not to mention Blaine’s instruments, which needed to be protected from Stephen.

Once all the purchases were made, Kurt began assigning tasks. He attempted to have Brittany baby-proof, but it quickly became apparent that she had no idea what might be hazardous to a baby, nor did she know what a baby might be able to destroy. He reassigned the task to Santana, and pulled Brittany into the kitchen with he and Blaine, where to his surprise she showed amazing dexterity and talent with a knife. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, as he had quickly found that while Blaine could chop things, he apparently could not do so uniformly, and finding things chopped in random irregular ways in the prep bowls had been driving him up a wall all day. They finally found a rhythm, with Kurt assigning tasks that needed only minimal supervision to the other three. Since they had only one small oven, more things had to be done in advance than he wanted, but they would make due. Finally, the turkey was resting on the counter and the last dishes that had been prepared earlier went into the oven to reheat. Kurt spread a tablecloth over both the small dining table and the borrowed card table that was pushed against it to provide enough seating. Blaine and Santana set the table, while Kurt brought in food. Everything was ready.

Brittany answered to door to let Finn, Rachel, and Stephen into the apartment. As usual, Rachel paid little attention to her child, instead asking in detail about the food to determine which dishes she could eat and which she could not. Finn had done some reading, and was worried about Stephen getting enough protein, so Rachel had grudgingly agreed to let him eat animal products until he was old enough to understand and make his own decision. To her annoyance, the child loved meat, dairy products, and eggs, and while he liked fruit, any vegetables were likely to be rejected. Because the feast was ready when they got there, they sat down immediately, each giving thanks. Blaine’s eyes met Kurt’s, which were engaged in an exaggerated eye-roll, when Rachel gave thanks not for her beautiful child or loving husband, but for the fact that the actress who played Fanny Brice had fallen ill and been out for two weeks, allowing Rachel to step in for her. Kurt and Blaine gave thanks for each other, for their friends, and for Kurt’s nephew. Finn mentioned Rachel and Stephen. Brittany and Santana largely echoed Kurt and Blaine. By the time they were done and ready to eat, Stephen was restless and wanted out of his father’s lap.

“Give me my nephew. You can’t hog him just because you’re his dad,” Kurt said, taking the baby. While glad he no longer lived with him, Kurt had to admit he’d missed the child. Stephen amused himself by playing with the buttons on Kurt’s elaborate shirt. Kurt cut tiny bites of turkey and placed them, along with the more finger-food friendly sides, such as green beans, on a small plastic plate. Turning the child toward the table, he said softly, “Look, Stephen, turkey! Yummy!” He then put a bite in his own mouth. Watching his uncle with wide eyes, the baby followed suit. Kurt fed him mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes from his own plate, alternating bites. “A bite for Stephen, and a bite for Uncle Kurt,” he said in a sing-song tone. Anything Kurt ate, Stephen had to have. Watching the scene, Blaine had a vision of the future. This was what he wanted: to be sitting at the table with Kurt, lovingly caring for their own children.

Conversation flew around the table, covering Christmas plans and the upcoming wedding, school and work, but neither Kurt nor Blaine paid attention. They were too focused on each other, and on the amazingly similar visions each had of the future, but which they kept to themselves during dinner.

After the leftovers were packed away, the guests had left, and all the dishes were done, the exhausted roommates finally made their way to bed. They should have fallen asleep immediately, but both Kurt and Blaine had too much on their minds to sleep. Reaching out to brush Kurt’s cheek, Blaine began hesitantly, “Baby, have you ever thought about . . . later? I mean, I know we kind of talked about this last year, but is it still what you want, now that you’ve put up with me for the last six months full time?”

Kurt’s heart was in his throat. What if Blaine had changed his mind? Hesitantly, he said, “Um, yeah. It’s still what I want. What about you?”

Blaine smiled. “Yeah,” he answered. “I kept looking at you and Stephen, and wishing he was ours. You’re going to be so great when we have kids.”

Kurt grinned, “And you’re going to be the best dad ever, with the possible exception of my dad, but he’s a pretty hard act to follow.”

Kurt rolled away until his back was to Blaine, then snuggled against him, safe in Blaine’s arms. They talked into the night about the future, cuddled together, before finally drifting off to sleep. They didn’t make any definite decisions or plans, but both felt that somehow, things were more settled.

* * *

They decided to spend Christmas in New York. The weeks without work when they had the flu had left them both short on funds. Blaine’s parents would have gladly paid for them to go back to Ohio, but Kurt didn’t want to take anything more from them than he had to; he felt the difference in their financial circumstances acutely. And if he was honest, Blaine really didn’t want to take the money either; sooner or later he needed to stand on his own two feet, and he preferred that it be sooner. Staying in New York meant both that they were saving the cost of the trip and could work more to make up the deficit.

Neither wanted to forgo a Christmas tree, so they located a small tree and dragged it up to their apartment. Kurt had made decorations, and brought the decorations that belonged to him from the old apartment. The homemade ones, not surprisingly given who had made them, looked elegant and sophisticated, while the older ones seemed comforting and homey, reminding them both of Christmases past. The only problem came when they realized the only place to put the tree was in the corner which had become home to Blaine’s cello. Unfortunately, until the girls moved, there was no other good place to put the cello. Everywhere they tried, it was in the way. Eventually they moved it to the bedroom, where they basically had to dance with it every time they got out of bed or tried to get their clothes, leading Kurt to exclaim, “Geez, do you have to play one this big?”

Blaine laughed. “Yeah, I do. It’s a full size cello. You know who plays smaller ones? Girls under five feet tall, or not much over, and kids. Is that who you want sharing your bed?”

Kurt had to admit it wasn’t, and quietly continued his cello dance for the duration of the holidays.

To save money, they whittled their Christmas gift lists, leaving off more casual acquaintances. For most of the others, gifts were hand-made accessories, which Blaine was able to help with after only a little coaching, special songs recorded just for the recipient, or homemade baked goods. They promised not to give each other gifts, but as they looked into each other’s eyes, they realized neither of them would keep the promise.

Christmas Eve was quiet. Finn and Rachel had taken Stephen back to Ohio for Christmas, and the girls were in Ohio as well, to not only celebrate Christmas, but facilitate wedding planning. Kurt made hot mulled apple cider, and he and Blaine snuggled together quietly, sipping and snacking on the “imperfect” cookies that Kurt had declared couldn’t be given away because they were not up to his standards. Kurt was dreaming about what Christmases would be like in the future when Blaine announced, “I think it’s time for presents now.”

Kurt looked at his boyfriend’s sparkling eyes and laughed. “I’m not sure we need to ever have kids because you are one.” Seeing the worry enter Blaine’s expression, he hurriedly said, “Just kidding. We will definitely have children, even if you still are one.”

“Good,” Blaine breathed, relieved that Kurt had only been teasing him. “This is for you,” he said, taking one of the two small boxes from under the tree. 

“Get yours too, and we’ll open them together,” Kurt instructed. Blaine complied, and they counted to three together before opening the boxes. Blaine’s contained an impossibly soft red cashmere scarf. Kurt’s held warm black shearling-lined leather gloves.

“You shouldn’t have,” they said together, laughing at themselves afterward.

“Vogue.com. Sometimes designers give us stuff, or we can get things at a discount. It really didn’t cost me that much,” Kurt promised.

“Okay. I just really wanted you to be warm tomorrow,” Blaine said, skirting the issue of cost. The gloves had been expensive, and he had ignored all the discussions they’d had about limits. He was pretty sure the scarf had cost more than Kurt wanted him to think it did, but really, cost was irrelevant. He had something special planned for their first Christmas alone, and he didn’t want it spoiled because Kurt was too cold and needed to go inside early.

“Other than Christmas, what’s tomorrow?” Kurt asked.

“I’m not telling, but we have plans,” Blaine told him mysteriously.

They went to bed that night with Kurt excited about the surprise awaiting him the next day, interrogating Blaine and using every trick he knew to break down Blaine’s resolve. That resulted in both of them having a very good evening and falling asleep in one another’s arms, Blaine’s secret still intact.

Kurt woke up early and woke Blaine. “Where are we going? What are we doing?” He demanded.

“Now who’s the child?” Blaine asked before mumbling, “Go back to sleep. I am. We aren’t going anywhere until later.” Kurt glared, but it was wasted on Blaine, who was already snoring softly again.

Late that morning, Blaine finally awoke and went to the living room in his pajamas to find a fully dressed Kurt, sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and looking at the Christmas tree. “Mmmm. Coffee. Maybe that’s what woke me up,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” Kurt answered. “I’m on my third cup.” Blaine cocked an eyebrow at him before moving to the kitchen to pour his own coffee. 

He snuggled into Kurt, saying, “Let me just finish this, then I’ll go get ready.” It sounded like a good plan, but Kurt was jittery, whether from nerves about the surprise or the coffee neither could say for sure. He finally sent Kurt to change, telling him, “We’ll be outside and it’s going to be really cold. Dress very warmly. But casual.” That should take him a while, he thought. After finishing his coffee, he took a shower and dressed in jeans, a turtleneck shirt, and a heavy fisherman’s sweater. He pulled on boots and sat on the bed, watching Kurt mull over possible choices. He finally said, “This is appropriate,” gesturing to his own clothes. Kurt ultimately settled on a dressier version of what Blaine was wearing and announced that he was ready.

Next to the door, they donned coats, scarves and gloves, then made their way outside. Blaine briefly wondered if it was possible to die of heat stroke during a relatively short subway ride, but soon enough it was over and they emerged onto the street again. He refused to tell Kurt where they were going, instead just taking his hand and tugging him along the sidewalk, which was almost deserted at noon on Christmas. Kurt gasped and laughed, bouncing up and down and clapping delightedly, once he saw the ice rink.

“Last year we missed our duet and our ice skating. I didn’t want to miss them again,” Blaine said. Kurt threw his arms around him and kissed him. They put on their rented skates, and joined the other skaters on the ice. It wasn’t crowded, just a few kids, probably testing new skates that had recently been under the tree. As they stepped out onto the ice, Blaine nodded. The next thing Kurt knew, a line of people holding bells appeared at the edge of the rink, just off the ice, and began ringing. Blaine began singing The Carol of the Bells. Kurt laughed, and, skating fast to catch up to Blaine, who’d skated away while Kurt stared at the ringers, joined the song. After the song, they just skated, Kurt practicing his jumps, which were rusty but mostly still doable if not pretty, and using his longer stride to skate away, making Blaine race to catch up to him. After an hour and a half, Kurt was starting to get chilled despite his layers and the exertion, and Blaine was ready for a break.

Blaine led them to the concession stand, where they purchased hot chocolate and cookies. Kurt found a table near one of the heaters placed around the concession area. They took their gloves off and warmed their hands on the cups and teased each other for a few moments before growing quiet. Blaine reached out and placed his hand over Kurt’s free hand, wrapping it in his own. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Kurt, can I ask you something? I’ve wondered about it, ever since we got to know each other more than four years ago, but I’ve never had the courage to ask you. And really, it’s none of my business, so feel free to say no or just not answer.”

Kurt was baffled. Blaine knew everything about him. He couldn’t imagine what Blaine could have been curious about for that long without just coming out and asking at some point. “Sure, Blaine. We don’t have any secrets, remember? Nothing to hide from each other.”

Blaine wasn’t meeting his eyes, instead looking at their intertwined hands. Taking a breath, he asked, “Is Elizabeth really your middle name?”

Kurt laughed. “That’s it? The big question you’ve been wanting to ask for four years?” Blaine nodded sheepishly. “Okay, here goes. No, it’s not. My real middle name is Ethan. I always loved having the same initials as my mom, her name was Kathryn Elizabeth, and when she died when I was eight, I started telling people my name was Kurt Elizabeth Hummel and signing things that way. I guess it was kind of a way for me to keep her with me all the time. My dad asked the therapist I saw after her death about it, and she said that if it made me feel better to let me keep doing it. I think she figured I’d do it for a few weeks and then stop, but I just never did. I don’t know why. What made you bring this up now?”

“Well,” Blaine began slowly, raising his eyes to Kurt’s, “I think we should have it legally changed. Either that, or we should put Kurt Ethan Hummel on the marriage license.”

Kurt’s mouth dropped open. “Are you, um, uh . . .” He trailed off.

“Asking you to marry me? Yes.” Blaine nodded. “And I’m kind of hoping it goes better than the last time. So, Kurt Hummel, will you marry me?”

Blinking back tears and willing them not to fall, Kurt nodded. He couldn’t talk.

“I’d like to hear your answer, please,” Blaine said, quietly.

“Yes,” Kurt whispered. “Oh God, yes.”

“Good,” Blaine replied, pulling a small box out of his pocket. “This is new, it’s not the one from last time. There was some serious bad karma associated with that one, so I got rid of it.” As he opened the box to display a ring which consisted of two narrow white gold bands joined by a series of triangular white gold knots which lay side by side, alternating pointing up and down, he continued, “This ring is made up of trinity knots, which symbolize good things in threes. And with it I promise to always love, honor, and cherish you. Or maybe love, honor and protect. I haven’t decided yet; it may depend on what you seem to need most at any given moment.” Kurt laughed, the tears slipping down his face, as Blaine slipped the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand.

Kurt stared at the ring until he felt, rather than saw, that Blaine had gotten up. He held out his hands to Kurt, saying, “Come on. I’d like to skate a bit more with my fiancée before we go to dinner.” Kurt had almost forgotten they had dinner reservations. He’d always eaten Christmas dinner at home, even the year before last when he had stayed in New York. But Blaine had persuaded him to let him make reservations, just for this year, although he’d had no idea at the time why Blaine wanted so badly to eat out. Now he knew that it was to celebrate, and that Blaine had planned this for some time.

Kurt was careful to stay to Blaine’s left once they stepped onto the ice, holding Blaine’s left hand with his right, so he could continue to stare at the ring. Blaine laughed. “Kurt, Baby, it’s not going anywhere, and neither am I. Now put your gloves on before you freeze.” Blaine’s gloves were already on, and Kurt had no idea when that had happened. He continued to stare at his left hand, even encased in the glove, as they skated, trusting Blaine to guide him and not let him run into anyone.

Blaine finally gave up on pulling Kurt’s attention back to the skating and they splurged on a cab to take them to a Greenwich Village restaurant featuring Christmas dinner and live jazz. They listened to the music, talking between sets. Kurt was already bubbling over with wedding plans. Blaine listened to them and laughed indulgently. Over dessert, he grew more serious. “Kurt, there’s something we need to talk about. Before the wedding planning gets too far.”

Kurt was pretty sure he didn’t like the sound of that, but nodded and said, “Okay.”

Blaine sighed, then began. “You know I’ve always been a bit of a, well, a disappointment to my parents. Especially my mother.”

Kurt was bewildered. As far as he knew, Blaine had a pretty good relationship with his parents, and they were very supportive. “Well, I know it was hard for your dad to accept it when you came out, but I thought he was okay with it now, and I didn’t know your mom had ever had a problem with it.”

Blaine shifted in his seat. “It’s not that. They’re both okay with that now. And this predates me coming out, it’s from long before I realized I was gay, before I even knew what that meant.

“Okay. I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Kurt told him, still mystified.

“It was easy for Cooper. He’s the oldest one, so he could be anything, be anyone. What he is, was, decides to be, defines what I’m supposed to be. He’s the actor, so I need to take business classes, even though I know in my heart I’m an artist, I need to be creative, to write, sing, act. He barely graduated from high school, and my dad had to pull in favors to get him into college, so I had to be a straight A AP student,” Blaine said.

“That part I understand,” Kurt interrupted.

“Let me finish,” Blaine said. Kurt motioned for him to continue. “Cooper was, I guess still is in some ways, a boy.” Kurt nodded. Blaine was stating the obvious. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Which means I was supposed to be a girl.”

“Come again?” Kurt said.

“My parents always planned to have two kids, a boy and a girl. They didn’t care which was first. So when Cooper was a boy, that meant I was supposed to be a girl. But I wasn’t. I’m not.” Blaine explained.

“Thank God. And I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but you had no control over that; you didn’t choose it any more than you chose to be gay. As I understand the biology, if your mom has an issue with that one, she needs to take it up with your father,” Kurt told him.

“I know,” Blaine sighed. “But it means my mom never got to do all the stuff moms do with daughters. And some of that she’s okay with, but, well, I’ve heard her talk to friends, the ones who have daughters Coop’s age, some of the daughters are married, and they get so into the wedding planning, and I heard her say once that she’d never get to do that. What I’m saying is she might want to be involved. You can say no, and you don’t have to do the things she suggests, or even talk to her about it, but it would mean a lot to her if she feels like she’s a part of it, more than a groom’s mom usually is.”

Kurt thought for a moment. He was not about to alienate his future mother-in-law if he could help it, but he had strong feelings about planning his own wedding. He was glad Blaine seemed happy to just go along with his plans, but this could definitely throw a wrench into things. Slowly, he began to speak. “I can talk to her about things, but if we disagree, I have the final say. It is our wedding; she got to plan hers.”

“Deal,” Blaine said, smiling. “But since it is our wedding, there’s one thing I do want to plan.”

“And that is?” Kurt asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“The song we dance our first dance to,” Blaine answered.

“Okay, but only because I trust you. You already know what it is, don’t you?” Kurt replied. Blaine’s shining eyes were the answer. “What is it?”

“You’ll find out at the reception,” Blaine answered. Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine and his surprises, although he had to admit most of them turned out pretty well. 

They discussed when to get married. Kurt had serious misgivings about getting married while still in college, but Blaine had another two and a half years to go, if he managed to graduate in four years. Blaine wanted to get married as soon as possible. They compromised, agreeing to the day before New Year’s Eve in two years. Kurt would be out of school by then, and Blaine would at least be close to done. They chose that date because it was likely that Kurt, as well as family and friends who were working, would be able to take some time off, while Blaine and their friends in school would be on winter break. Blaine was still not happy about waiting so long, but Kurt argued it would take that long to make the arrangements, and he finally acquiesced.

They listened to the music a little while more before going home. They decided to take the subway, both for financial reasons and because they felt like taking a walk, and the short distance between the subway station and the apartment sounded like just the thing. As they walked quietly, Kurt said, “Blaine?”

“Hmm?”

“When we have kids, if we have a girl, can her middle name be Elizabeth?”

“Yeah, Baby, I think that’s a good idea,” Blaine smiled, squeezing Kurt’s hand.

They got ready for bed, then climbed into it and snuggled for a while before they both grew drowsy. Kurt was the first to fall asleep; it was harder for Blaine, who was staring in amazement at Kurt’s left hand in his, the ring shining on his finger. It was finally hitting him that Kurt had said yes, that he was cuddled up in bed with not his boyfriend, but his fiancée. And at the moment, Blaine’s mind could come up with no greater miracle.

* * *

The day after Christmas, they called to tell their parents. Kurt’s dad, Carole, and Finn offered congratulations. Rachel pouted because she hadn’t been told that Blaine was going to propose. Blaine’s father wished them well. His mother, on the other hand, was too busy booking a plane ticket to say much, other than that she would be there that night and Kurt should make sure he was free for lunch the next day, and he should clear his afternoon. 

“What about me?” Blaine demanded playfully.

“Of course, Darling, you can come if you want. But Kurt and I have a lot to go over and you’ll probably just be bored,” his mother told him.

Kurt immediately went into panic mode. He had to get what he wanted defined before Blaine’s mother arrived, so she wouldn’t impose her own will on him too much. He spent the rest of the day filling a sketchpad with sketches of tuxes and bridesmaids’ dresses, sketches and clipped pictures of cakes and flowers, and everything else he could think of. He was terrified of meeting with Blaine’s mother unarmed.

That evening, the men had dinner with Blaine’s mother. She asked to see the ring, and complimented both Blaine’s choice and the way it looked on Kurt. She had already booked appointments at several florists’ shops and bakeries to look at arrangements and discuss both the appearance and taste of possible cakes. She and Kurt discussed the schedule for the next day. She had left preparations for the annual Anderson New Year’s party up to her assistant, as well as a trusted caterer and a decorator, but she couldn’t be away from the preparations too long, so they only had one day; they needed to make the most of it. After dinner, they bid her goodnight and went back to their apartment.

Kurt loved Blaine’s mother. He had always liked her, but the feeling was intensified now. Unfortunately, that made him fear he wouldn’t be able to stand up to her if it meant disappointing her, but he really did want his wedding to be the way he’d always pictured it in his head. He told Blaine his worries that night in bed. Blaine chuckled. “If my mom gets too overbearing, let me know and I’ll get her to back off. But I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

The next day, Kurt gathered his sketchpad and walked to the café where he was meeting Blaine’s mother for lunch. He was so nervous he wasn’t sure he would be able to eat. Entering the restaurant, he spotted Mrs. Anderson already seated at a quiet table near a window. Walking over, he greeted her and sat down. A waiter approached as he scanned the menu, and they both ordered salads and drinks. After the waiter withdrew, Blaine’s mother said, “We’ll talk about the wedding after the food arrives. First, I’d like to talk about what your plans are for after the wedding.”

“After?” Kurt looked at her blankly.

“Not immediately after. But eventually. Have the two of you discussed whether or not you’d like to have a family? I could ask Blaine, but when your own mother asks you that question, it’s kind of nagging,” she clarified.

Kurt was suddenly glad the food hadn’t come yet, because he was pretty sure he would have choked. “Um, yeah. We want one. Other than the fact that we want at least one child, we haven’t really gotten very far. We haven’t talked about how many or anything,” he told her, wondering how he had ended up in a position in which he was having this conversation with his boyfriend’s, no, fiancée’s, mother.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to do that?” She asked. “I mean, obviously neither of you are going to get pregnant, so you’ll either have to adopt or use a surrogate.”

“We really haven’t discussed it at all,” he said, not sure he was liking where this was going.

“Well,” she said, “I would suggest adopting, maybe from Asia. You could use a surrogate, but if you do that, you should be the biological father, at least once.”

Kurt blushed. He could not believe they were discussing this. On the other hand, she seemed pretty sure Blaine shouldn’t father their child, and as embarrassing as this discussion was, he needed to know why. He couldn’t think of a single reason why Blaine shouldn’t be the biological father of their child, and a lot of reasons why he should, so he needed to find out why Blaine’s mother held the opinion she did. “Really?” He asked, hoping it would draw her out without him having to play twenty questions to get at the answer.

Just then the drinks arrived. “Yes. I want a granddaughter, and Blaine can’t father one,” she told him.

Okay, that was news. He wondered what would prevent Blaine from fathering a daughter. Some genetic disease he carried that would only be dangerous to a girl, perhaps? But wracking his brain, he was pretty sure things like that went the other way: the mothers were the carriers and the diseases affected the sons. He must have looked puzzled, because she continued, “How much do you know about our family? Specifically the Andersons?”

“Uh, some, not tons,” he answered.

“You know we have two boys, Cooper and Blaine, right?” She confirmed his knowledge.

“Right . . . .” Kurt agreed.

“Were you aware that their father is one of five children? Or that they were all boys? And not one of them has had a daughter? All of Blaine’s cousins on the Anderson side are boys. And Blaine’s grandfather is from a family of boys, all of whom have had only boys. After Blaine was born I did a little research into the Anderson family genealogy, and going back six generations only boys have been born to Anderson men. It’s statistically impossible, and yet it’s true.” She informed him.

“O-kay,” Kurt said, somewhat hesitantly. He’d have to ask Blaine about that.

“Anyway, I fell in love with an Anderson, and I had only boys. I always wanted a daughter, but since I never had one, I would love a granddaughter. Given the Anderson family history, I didn’t think that was going to happen, since I fully expect neither of my sons will father anything other than boys. You, however, give me hope. As far as I know, there’s no reason why you can’t give me a granddaughter. The fact that Blaine is gay may actually be a blessing in disguise,” she said.

Kurt was trying to figure out how to answer that when the food came, and Blaine’s mother abruptly changed the subject to the wedding. “Have you thought about where you’ll get married or who will officiate?”

“No,” Kurt told her honestly. “For a long time I thought I’d never be able to get married. I felt like I’d never escape Ohio and me getting married there would never be legal. For a long time I felt like I was the only gay guy in Ohio, and I’d never even find someone who would want to marry me. So, in my mind, I’ve thought about clothes and flowers and cakes, but not so much about where, other than somewhere it’s legal.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before beginning. “You know we’re Catholic, right?” Kurt nodded. She continued, “And, even though the church hasn’t come to accept him fully yet, church does mean a great deal to Blaine. I know you’re not religious, Blaine’s told me you don’t believe in God, and I know we won’t be able to find a Catholic priest to marry you, but I think it would mean a lot to Blaine if we could find a clergyman to officiate.”

“As long as they’re licensed by the state of New York or wherever we end up holding the wedding, and it’s considered legal here, I’m fine with whoever we find,” Kurt told her.

“I have an idea,” she said. “I did a little research, and I think I found a place that would be good, as long as you don’t have your heart set on getting married in the city.”

“Um, I haven’t really thought about not getting married in the city, and I have to warn you that I’m not really an outdoorsy type, but what did you find?” He asked.

Blaine’s mother pulled several printed pages from her bag and passed them over to him. They contained both information and pictures of a beautiful church and another large, elegant, old building. “This is a church in upstate New York where the minister is willing to perform marriage ceremonies for gay couples. It’s large enough for a pretty big wedding, but a small one would be fine too, whatever you want. It’s also only a couple of miles from this inn,” and with that she indicated the pictures of the other building. “It has a ballroom that will accommodate up to two hundred guests, and while not everyone could stay at the inn, there is a wonderful honeymoon suite for the wedding night for the two of you plus a lot of other guest rooms and there are nice inns and hotels and B and B’s in the area for the rest of the guests. They work with the church a lot and there’s an old carriage path through the woods that separate the inn from the church, and they can arrange to have a horse drawn carriage pick you up at the church after the pictures and take you to the reception at the inn.”

Kurt’s eyes shone as he shuffled through the pages she had given him. Planning a wedding with Blaine’s mom would be better than he ever expected. His delay in speaking made her uncertain. “It was just an idea. I know it’s your wedding, not mine. I didn’t mean to overstep. We don’t have to do it there,” she said quickly.

“No,” Kurt said, shaking his head and trying to blink back his tears as he met her eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you so much. I think the two of us are going to make great partners on this.” Blaine’s mother beamed at him, but another thought crossed his mind and he frowned. “There’s just one problem: there’s no way we can afford something like this.”

“Of course we can,” Blaine’s mother told him.

“What? I know Blaine has more money than I do, but this has to be really expensive, and honestly, I’m trying not to be too much of a financial burden on my parents, especially since my brother and I are both in school, and our parents are trying to pay for both of us at the same time. I just can’t even consider something this expensive,” Kurt told her with regret.

“You may not be able to afford it, but the Andersons can. The way he’s going, Cooper may never get married, and he’s straight, so his bride’s family will plan and pay for at least most of his wedding. And that’s assuming it doesn’t happen at a drive through chapel in a state with no waiting period between obtaining the marriage license and the actual ceremony. This is my only shot, so I plan to make the most of it. And if that means we help pay for my son’s wedding when he marries the love of his life, so be it. Honestly, we were afraid Blaine would never find anyone like you, and we’re so glad that he did. We’d cheerfully pay for all of this, but I understand if you’re not comfortable with that, so we’ll help as much as you want,” Mrs. Anderson informed him.

Kurt didn’t know what to say. He stared at Blaine’s mother for a moment before he managed to choke out, “Thank you, so much, for everything.” Somehow, it didn’t seem like nearly enough.

Mrs. Anderson was the consummate socialite, and an expert at handling awkward situations. Not dwelling on the issue of money, she moved on, saying, “We have a lot of appointments this afternoon with florists and bakeries. First, we’ll have to make sure they can arrange an upstate delivery; if they can’t there’s no use in considering them, and we have to make sure they won’t try to subcontract the job. Next, we consider arrangements at the florists and look at designs and taste at the bakeries. Yes, we want the cake to be beautiful, but it should taste good too, and most wedding cakes don’t. And we need to talk about how to handle Blaine.”

Kurt’s head was spinning by this time, but her comment about handling Blaine got his attention. “Um, excuse me?” He wasn’t sure what she meant and needed clarification.

“Well, we have to deal with Blaine. He’ll want to feel like he has some say in his own wedding, most grooms do. But we aren’t going to let him really do the planning. So what we do is this: first, we decide what he can help with. Choosing the cake is a good one, because he cares about food, even if you can’t always tell from the way he eats. So let’s say we’re going to let him help choose the cake. We aren’t going to let him have free reign. We will choose a bakery or two that are good. We narrow down the choices on designs, cake flavors and fillings. Then we let him choose from those. Just make sure all the choices you give him are ones you like. Or, you pick the one you want, and make sure all the other choices you give him are unacceptable to him. That way, he thinks he’s contributing, but you still get what you want,” she told him smugly.

Kurt laughed disbelievingly. Suddenly planning his wedding was turning into the best amusement park ride he’d ever been on. Mrs. Anderson paid the check, waiving him away when he attempted to pay, and they struck out with her list of florists and bakeries.

Blaine met them that evening for dinner, looking between his mother and Kurt as they shared secretive looks and laughs and defected his questions. He was glad they were getting along, but felt they would have to have a long discussion about what had happened that day, although he didn’t have much hope, since neither his mother nor his fiancée seemed inclined to explain, and he suspected that most of what he wanted to know fell into a new loophole in the “no secrets” rule. He knew he would find out in due time, which meant when they wanted him to know.

* * *

Word of their engagement spread quickly, and friends called with congratulations. They used the calls to catch up with everyone. Tina was at Northwestern, and she and Mike, who was still studying at the Joffrey Ballet School in Chicago, were also engaged. Sam had gotten help, finally, with his dyslexia at junior college, and had made good grades which allowed him to transfer to Ohio State; he and Mercedes had begun dating again during the Christmas break. Puck had also managed to get into Ohio State, having been accepted as an English major. Lauren was at Harvard, double majoring in electrical engineering and computer programming while maintaining her place on the wrestling team. Quinn was still at Yale, majoring in business; she wasn’t seeing anyone, and was happy with the situation. Artie was in New York, at the Brooklyn Film Academy; although technically in the same city, they didn’t see each other much, as everyone was so busy and he was focused on a different area, but he offered his best wishes before rushing off to a meeting about a new student film he was working on. Kitty, Marley, Jake and Ryder were still at McKinley, preparing to lead the Glee Club to a fourth consecutive national championship, provided they won regionals. Kurt and Blaine enjoyed finding out what was going on with all their old friends.

Kurt spent hours on the phone with wedding vendors and Blaine’s mom. As it turned out, planning a wedding two years in advance had its advantages; almost no one was booked that far ahead, so they were trying to get everything locked in before anyone else booked their favorites. Trying to maintain secrecy, he left the room any time Blaine was there. Blaine just rolled his eyes; all he wanted was for Kurt to be happy, so whatever he wanted was fine, and the cloak and dagger routine was amusing.

Both men had to work on New Year’s Eve, Blaine performing with the band, and Kurt had been drafted by Santana to wait tables again, and that was after working the morning at Vogue.com and the afternoon at the restaurant. Kurt was starting to look forward to classes for the relaxation, both mentally and physically. They managed to make it home around a quarter till three in the morning, apologizing to one another about yet another missed New Year’s Eve kiss, until Blaine pointed out it was still not midnight in California. So they waited a few minutes and shared a west coast New Year’s Eve kiss in New York.

A few days after New Year’s, Santana and Brittany arrived, several muscular men in tow. Kurt recognized most of them. They were either employees or regulars at the gay bar where Santana worked as de facto manager. He shook his head in amusement; Santana was the only lesbian he knew who could convince a small army of gay men to act as free movers for her. They made quick work of moving the sparse furniture from Santana’s room, as well as she and Brittany’s clothing. Kurt kept watch to make sure they took only the girls’ belongings, just in case. He thought about objecting to them taking the bed; it was actually his after all, but a look at Blaine, who shook his head once, subtly, and he kept his mouth shut.

Once the door shut behind the girls, they turned to each other, almost giddy with the prospect of being alone in their own space after seven months of sharing it. Blaine encircled Kurt’s waist with his arms and murmured, “We’re alone. What do you want to do first?”

Taking in the clutter of books and instruments that littered their living and dining room, Kurt leaned in, resting his forehead against Blaine’s, and said, “Move your instruments to your new music room.”

Blaine laughed. He had kind of expected that. Letting go of Kurt, he began picked up his cello case and a guitar case, and said, “Help me out. The faster it gets moved, the faster we get to do what I want to do.”

“And what is that?” Kurt inquired. Blaine’s answer was merely a smoldering look, but one that got Kurt to grab cases and start moving them as fast as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know it, The Carol of the Bells is a traditional French Carol. Please, please leave reviews and comments and let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding and more parenting from Finn and Rachel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm going to try (no promises) to post the next chapter a day early, on Thanksgiving here in the states, so you can look for it then.

CHAPTER 10

Once classes began again, they returned to their routine of school, lessons and work. Kurt worked in as much wedding planning as he could, and kept in contact with Blaine’s mom, who was also working on the wedding. Blaine ignored them and focused on school and school related activities, as well as the band and the students he was teaching. He filled in any spare time he had when Kurt was not around with a new project: he was trying his hand at writing a play, specifically a musical. And whenever they found themselves together and awake, they simply enjoyed their time together.

The semester passed quickly. Before they knew it, classes had ended for the summer, and they were preparing to attend Santana and Brittany’s wedding. All of their friends were making the journey to New York, where the wedding was to be held. As expected, Santana’s parents had gone all-out, and it was an elaborate affair. However, Santana had been sad for days, as she had always wanted her Abuela to be at her wedding; unfortunately, she had flatly refused, telling Santana she would be happy to attend her wedding to a man, but would not attend a farce of a wedding in which two women claimed to be getting married. The arrival of the rest of her family and friends cheered her only a little. Kurt eventually took her aside and said, “Look, this is supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You cannot let someone’s narrow minded attitude take that from you, no matter who it is. You are about to marry the love of your life. How can you be sad when you think of that?”

“You’re right, Porcelain,” she answered, wiping at the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “I’m going to go out there and marry Brit in front of everyone, and anyone who isn’t happy for us doesn’t belong here and doesn’t deserve for us to care what they think.”

“Good job. Now let’s get out there,” Kurt told her. 

He took his place with Blaine on Brittany’s side of the altar, facing Rachel and Quinn. He narrowed his eyes, looking at Rachel; something seemed a bit off about her today, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. The ceremony was sweet and simple, and after the congregation left the small wedding party reassembled at the altar for pictures. Rachel was putting on her show face and smiling for the cameras, but as soon as they were done, she looked as though she was smelling something particularly putrid. He tried to talk to her, but she brushed him off and went to find Finn. Something was definitely up, and Kurt was going to find out what it was.

At the reception, Rachel sat at the table with the rest of the wedding party and their guests, but as the food was served, she turned slightly green and bolted. “She, um, she has the stomach flu,” Finn apologized for her, looking from her plate, making sure it contained Rachel’s specially ordered vegan meal, to the rest of table’s occupants. “She’s had it for a couple of weeks. She just can’t seem to shake it.”

Kurt stared at his brother in shock, before exchanging a knowing look with Santana. They’d been through this before. After a moment, he excused himself, promising to return in a few minutes. He found Rachel on her knees in front of a toilet in the ladies’ room, dry heaving. “How far along are you?” He asked bluntly.

“Eight weeks, but you can’t tell anyone,” Rachel answered, not trying to deny his assumption.

“And why not? Wait, does Finn even know?” Kurt demanded.

“No. I’ll tell him in another month if I’m still pregnant,” she said.

“Excuse me? What do you mean if you’re still pregnant?” Kurt was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

“Miscarriages happen all the time,” she told him coldly, “And Finn can’t keep a secret. I can’t risk anyone at NYADA or in the theater world hearing about this.”

“Number one, why?” He questioned, “And number two, how do you think you’re going to keep it a secret? You’re going to be showing within a couple of months, three at the outside.”

“Lots of reasons,” Rachel told him. “First, the lead for Funny Girl is leaving at the end of the month; they already extended her contract once, but she has another show going into rehearsals next month so they can’t extend it again. They have to replace her and I’m the obvious choice, but I won’t even be in the running if they know I’m pregnant again. Second, I’m sick of being the understudy. I’ve only actually gotten to play Fanny three times because she almost never gets sick and never takes a vacation. I have several auditions lined up in case I don’t get Fanny Bryce, but again, if they find out I’m pregnant before I get the part there’s no way I’ll be considered. Third, I’ve signed up to do my fall dance classes over the summer, but they might not let me, and I certainly won’t get cast as the leads in the shows, if Cassie finds out I’m pregnant again, and finally, NYADA and Broadway have too many crossovers; if it’s known at NYADA that I’m expecting, everyone on Broadway will know it within the week.”

“You’re telling him tonight, as soon as you get home,” Kurt told her.

“No, I’m not,” Rachel insisted.

“Oh, yes, you are. And if I don’t get a call, from Finn, telling me the good news before I go to bed tonight, I will be telling him first thing tomorrow. You can count on it,” Kurt said, with a warning tone to his voice.

“You wouldn’t,” she challenged.

“Oh, yeah? You think not? Try me,” Kurt snapped as Rachel rinsed her mouth in the sink.

“Fine,” she said with a glare as she stalked past him.

They both returned to the reception, which was now in full swing. Blaine leaned over and took Kurt’s hand, whispering, “What was that about?”

“Tell you later,” Kurt murmured, as he caught Santana’s gaze and nodded in confirmation. Santana rolled her eyes.

That evening, he shared the news with Blaine, and they discussed ways to tell Finn. Fortunately, Kurt was spared that task when the phone rang. Kurt answered to hear his overjoyed brother bubble over with news of Rachel’s pregnancy.

* * *

Summer passed in a blur. 

Kurt kept an eye on Rachel as much as he could, making excuses to drop by NYADA on occasion, even though he wasn’t taking classes that summer, as he’d caught up and needed to work as much as possible. She was barely showing, even less than she had with Stephen, and wasn’t gaining much weight, even though the morning sickness seemed to have ended. What little baby bump she did have, she artfully disguised with clothes, even wearing a sweater to dance and insisting the studio was cold. She wouldn’t discuss the matter with him, simply saying the doctor told her she and the baby were fine. Finn told him the doctor was a little concerned about her lack of weight gain and the baby’s size, but wasn’t worried yet, and Rachel just didn’t have much appetite. Kurt was having a hard time believing that, so he took to bringing her lunch and insisting she eat. He held the threat of going public with her pregnancy over her to get her to comply. For all that he loved Rachel, he didn’t trust her, and he was not about to let her harm his niece or nephew to further her own ambition.

The selection of a new long-term Fanny Bryce was delayed when a hot young Hollywood starlet expressed interest in playing the role while in between movie parts. The producers of the show, smelling box-office gold, jumped at the chance to have her for the next three and a half months.

Rachel and Kurt both attended audition after audition. Rachel only auditioned for lead roles in Broadway productions, while Kurt auditioned for any and all male roles in any theater in the Manhattan area. Rachel got call-back after call-back, but Kurt got parts. He largely turned the wedding planning over to Blaine’s mother, who was by now his most trusted confidante, at least where wedding matters were concerned, while working each morning at Vogue.com, and each afternoon at the restaurant before going to whichever theater he was working in that day, and working in the bar on the evenings when there was no show, or in between roles. True, they were mostly chorus roles and bit parts, often filling in for a minor actor or chorus member who was ill or on vacation, or roles in small off and off-off Broadway theaters, where the productions often lasted only a few weeks. However, his extensive knowledge of Broadway shows, plus his ability to learn lines, songs and dance routines extremely quickly, soon garnered him a reputation for excellence and professionalism. Soon he was getting calls asking if he was free to fill in for absent actors on a regular basis, a fact which made Rachel, who was still officially the understudy for Fanny Bryce, and who still had not made it past the call-back stage for anything else, seethe with anger.

The fall semester began, and with it, Kurt and Rachel’s fourth, and final, year at NYADA. Many of those they had started with had dropped out, either because they were now working steadily in the theater world, or at least in some aspect of show business, or because they had given up on their dreams of show business success and gone on to pursue other work or to attend school somewhere else, somewhere that would give them a better chance of getting a job in their major after graduation. Kurt and Rachel, however, were going to graduate; Rachel, because she had not yet achieved the success she was dreaming of, Kurt because he would not let his dad down by failing to do so.

However, even Kurt admitted that something had to give, so he regretfully approached Isabelle to tell her that he had to leave Vogue.com. He could no longer juggle school, his theater parts, and two jobs waiting tables with an unpaid internship, as wonderful as it was. Isabelle believed in Kurt’s talents as a designer and a fashion savant, and she was unwilling to lose him. Therefore, she countered with the offer of a part time paid position; the salary wasn’t astounding, but it was more than he was making waiting tables at both his other jobs combined. He gratefully accepted, and turned in his notice at the restaurant and bar that afternoon.

Calling to tell those important to him the news, he received congratulations from his parents, Finn, and most of his friends, and jealous grumbles from Rachel, who was still waiting tables and auditioning. Santana was happy for him, but tried, unsuccessfully, to convince him to continue to be available for her to call if she needed a waiter, causing her to jokingly complain. Although it seemed wrong to tell Blaine last, Kurt did, waiting until Blaine returned from his gig shortly after Kurt arrived home from the theater. The celebration they ended up having made him very glad he had done so.

Shortly after Kurt’s promotion to official employee of Vogue.com, Blaine also received good news. He had shared his musical with members of the theater club he belonged to at school, and one of the other members had shown it to one of the drama professors, in hopes of convincing the drama department to do a student production of Blaine’s work. The professor, however, was so impressed that she reached out to her contacts within the theater world, and a small, but professional, theater company was interested in producing the work. Blaine’s first play would premier early the next year in a tiny, but well respected, off-Broadway theater, one known for launching many a Broadway hit.

Everything seemed to be going well, not only for Kurt and Blaine, but for their friends. Santana had, upon turning twenty-one, been named the official manager of the club where she worked. Brittany was a popular, respected dance instructor and choreographer at the studio where she worked. Sam and Mercedes called to share the news of their own engagement, since Sam and Blaine were still best friends, as were Kurt and Mercedes (much as Rachel wanted to claim the position as Kurt’s best friend). School was going well for everyone else, and after winning McKinley’s fourth national show choir championship, the new crop of glee club kids who had come in during Blaine’s senior year were now in college, a few even in New York, allowing Blaine to reconnect with some of them. Everyone seemed happy, and the relationship drama that tended to plague their group seemed to be at a minimum. It made Kurt slightly uneasy, like the calm before the storm.

A bit more than halfway through September, his fears proved well-founded. He received a call from a tearful Rachel, insisting he meet her at a clinic near her loft, as they wouldn’t let her go home alone. She refused to explain what was going on, only giving him an address. Skipping class, he hurried to Bushwick, only to find himself staring at the doors to a women’s clinic, one that provided, along with birth control and prenatal services, abortions. He rushed in to find a hysterical Rachel, screaming at the staff and insisting they had to give her an abortion immediately, while the staff in turn tried to calm her and explain that, at twenty-six weeks, she was too far along to receive an abortion unless it was necessary to save her own life. “You don’t understand,” she insisted, “This is more important than my life. This is my career! You have to help me. Tell them, Kurt.”

Taking a deep breath, Kurt waded into the fray, trying to find out what had happened. “They called,” she sobbed brokenly.

“Who? Who called?” Kurt asked.

“The producers for Night Stalkings,” she told him, naming an upcoming Broadway show, a musical about a seductive female vampire. They had joked about it when they saw the notice about auditions, but it was a Broadway musical, after all, so Rachel auditioned for the lead. It looked abysmal, and it was expected to flop, but it was the last of the plays she had auditioned for that she had not definitively heard from, and she had made it to the final round of call-backs. “They told me I had exactly what they wanted, the looks, the voice, everything. And they definitely would cast me, except that I’m pregnant.”

“I thought you weren’t telling anyone,” Kurt said, confused. He had seen the way she was dressing, and didn’t think anyone would be able to tell unless they already had some reason to think she was pregnant.

“I didn’t,” she replied, “but somehow they knew. I swore to them I wasn’t, and they asked me to come back one more time next week, but I have to get rid of it before then.”

“’It’ is my niece, my brother’s child,” Kurt told her icily. “And I most certainly will not be helping you to harm her in any way. What I will be doing is telling Finn what you tried to do.” Rachel looked stricken. “What were you planning to tell him, anyway?”

“That I lost the baby,” she admitted in a small voice. “Do you have to tell him? Can’t we just forget about this?”

“Absolutely not,” Kurt replied. Taking her by the wrist, he literally pulled her from the clinic, and they walked the distance to the loft, Kurt texting Finn on the way.

Finn returned home about half an hour after they arrived, bursting through the door and calling, “Rachel? Kurt? What’s wrong? Why did I have to come home? The baby’s okay, right?”

“Yes, no thanks to your wife,” Kurt answered.

“What are you talking about?” Finn asked, looking from Kurt to Rachel, who were perched on opposite ends of the couch, Kurt glaring at Rachel, who was staring at the wall.

Rachel didn’t reply, so Kurt answered for her. “The producers for a show she auditioned for guessed she was pregnant, and told her they would have cast her but for that. She went to a clinic and tried to force the staff to give her an abortion. She called me to come get her, thinking she would be successful, because after an abortion, they wouldn’t let her leave alone. She’s too far along now, though, so they wouldn’t do it. She was going to tell you she miscarried.”

Turning his gaze from Kurt to Rachel, Finn said quietly, “Rachel, is that true?” When she didn’t answer, he stood directly in front of her and demanded, “Look at me. Is it true?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “Okay, yes. I’m sick and tired of not getting the success I deserve because of your brats! I’m not going to let them stand in my way!” Finn looked as if she had hit him, and Kurt’s mouth dropped open. Suddenly, Kurt was very glad that Stephen was in day care at the moment.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Finn looked at Rachel and said, “This is how this is going to work. You will take care of yourself, because that means taking care of my daughter. You will do nothing to harm her or yourself, nor will you do anything to cause her to arrive any earlier than she otherwise would. Once she does arrive, I will take her and Stephen. We will get a divorce, and I will get sole custody. You will sign away all rights to visitation or anything else, and I won’t ask for child support, not that you could ever pay it. You are not their mother, you are nothing but a carrier. Do you understand?”

Rachel remained silent.

“Do you understand me?” Finn yelled.

“Yes,” she said meekly.

Feeling as though things were finally under control, Kurt stood to leave. Finn followed him to the door, keeping an eye on Rachel. As Kurt stepped out, Finn murmured under his breath, “I don’t trust her. She tried to kill the baby, and you said she was willing to do it to Stephen when she was pregnant the first time. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you then; I do now. I’m going to have to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. Can you help me?” Kurt nodded, and the two of them worked out basic coverage to make sure Rachel was never alone. They would enlist the help of Blaine and friends to cover when one of them could not be there.

That evening, when Blaine returned home, Kurt told him of the drama that had occurred that day. Blaine was appalled, and quickly agreed to help. Kurt called friends from the restaurant and NYADA, and confirmed their suspicions that yes, Rachel was again pregnant; without going into detail, and making it sound like a depression issue, rather than blind ambition, he explained that he and Finn were afraid that she might hurt herself or the baby, and got agreement from many to help watch over her. It was a believable enough tale, as many of the artist types attracted to the theater (which also included the entire staff at the restaurant), suffered from depression at one time or another. Even Kurt had, although his had more to do with bullying and abuse than the lack of success that seemed to drive it in many aspiring actors. Confident that between he, Finn, and friends they could prevent Rachel from harming the baby, he and Blaine went to bed, although neither was able to sleep.

The next two and a half months seemed to drag by. Kurt had projects at school and Vogue.com, his acting, and now he was starting to design costumes, something he fell into when he ended up improvising a costume when one of the official ones malfunctioned spectacularly during a dress rehearsal of a NYADA production. He was also organizing the discreet coverage to make sure Rachel was watched virtually around the clock. Blaine was busy with his classes, the band, private lessons, both ones he was taking and ones he was teaching, and the production of his play; although he was not directing it, he was staying involved, and the director sought his opinion on matters of staging and choreography. Kurt was looking forward to the winter break, spending time with Blaine’s mother working out details for the wedding, and just being less busy.

Two days after a tense Thanksgiving with Finn, Rachel and Stephen, Finn called to say Rachel was in labor, a couple of weeks early, but not enough to be a problem. Several hours later he called again, telling them that Carole Ann Hudson had arrived. Rachel had refused to hold her, and Finn was preparing to take her home as soon as the pediatrician released her. He had leased another loft in the same building, and friends from school had helped him move the children’s things along with his own. He had seen an attorney when Rachel’s intentions toward the baby became clear, and Rachel would be served with divorce papers the next day. Friends agreed to help care for the children while Finn finished the semester, since Carole Ann was too young for day care, and by the time the next semester began, she would be old enough to go to the day care at the community center.

Kurt felt mildly guilty that his primary feeling, after thinking that he had the most beautiful niece in the world, was relief that the Finn and Rachel drama, not to mention potential danger to the aforementioned niece, was over. At least he hoped it was over; it had been a roller coaster ride that had lasted over six years, and he, for one, was ready to get off.

After finals, Kurt and Blaine continued to work until they flew back to Ohio, the night before Christmas Eve. They spent Christmas Eve through lunch on Christmas day with the Hummel-Hudson family, with the primary activities consisting of cooing over Carole Ann and making the Christmas that two-year-old Stephen would be too young to remember spectacular for him, despite the absence of his mother, which he seemed to barely notice. After lunch, they drove to Westerville to spend the next day and a half with the Andersons before flying home early two days after Christmas. Time with the Andersons was split between celebrating Christmas and wedding planning. Cooper had flown in from Los Angeles, and he and Blaine laughed at how close Kurt and their mother had become. Flying home, they were happy to have a day off, with no work, to catch up with each other and just be a couple, before getting back to work before New Year’s Eve.

* * *

Kurt’s graduation came, and with it the news that he had landed his first lead role in a Broadway play. It was a musical, and he played a straight leading man. He was excited not just because it was his first big leading role but because to him, it showed his versatility; it was proof he wouldn’t be typecast as the gay sidekick or relegated to chorus roles. He would also be originating the role, so he wouldn’t be compared to anyone else, at least not until he left the show after a hopefully successful run. He held on to his part-time position at Vogue.com; God knew there was no guarantee the show would be successful, and he couldn’t afford to be out of work. His costume designing was also picking up speed, with his reputation for both innovative ideas and talent with a needle spreading throughout the New York theater world. Finally, Isabelle had started to encourage him to show some of his designs to some of the designers he was able to contact through Vogue.com.

Blaine’s play had enjoyed a successful run, and while it had not made it to Broadway, several regional theaters had expressed interest in performing it, and a few Broadway producers had spoken to him about showing them any work he might produce in the future. He was still buried in classwork and active with his band. However, his diligence in taking summer school classes every year was paying off, as he was on track to graduate the following spring.

Most of their friends and family were also doing well in school. Finn had slowed down, once he became the sole caretaker of two children; it was looking like he was going to graduate a year after Blaine. He had also announced his intention to look for a job in Ohio, preferably in Lima, as it was clear it would be easier to have the support of his parents to help raise the kids, and it would allow them to get to know their grandparents. Quinn was due to graduate from Yale in December, the same time Mercedes would graduate from OSU. Sam would be a year behind her. Artie was graduating and preparing to move to Los Angeles. Puck was to graduate at the same time as Blaine, as would Tina. Mike had already graduated, and joined the Chicago ballet as a company member; he was also doing some outside choreography and dance work. Santana would also graduate when Blaine did, in a year. Lauren would graduate in a year, and already had offers from several companies. The younger glee members were doing well in school, enjoying the freedom that goes with being a college student. 

The only member of their little group not graduating or looking forward to it was Rachel. During their last semester, free of the “entanglements” of a husband and children, as she put it, she finally landed her first lead in a Broadway musical, just a couple of months before Kurt got his role. She essentially dropped out of school, insisting to Kurt that she was taking incompletes and would finish her coursework and graduate as soon as she had time. Kurt knew in his heart she would never return, but wished her well. After all, this was her dream, and she didn’t necessarily need a degree on the wall to accomplish it. He was just a little sad that she had come so close and not made it to the finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't hate Rachel, nor do I hate Lea Michele. However, this is how I see her overabundance of ambition playing out, so that's how I wrote it. Please, please let me know what you think, even if you didn't like it. I will always respond to comments, and I love hearing from all of you. The next chapter will be back to focusing on our boys!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's been waiting, the wedding is finally here! Whose name do you think they are going to use?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going up a few hours later than I planned, but it is going up on Thanksgiving. I hope everyone here in the US is having a wonderful holiday, and anyone outside the US is having a great day as well. I want to say congratulations on the great review at work to a friend in the UK (she knows who she is!); I knew you could do it! Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this and has stuck with me. Please review and let me know if there's anything you'd like to hear more about or see in more depth in a one-shot. I have two companion one-shots written, and I'll put them up as soon as the relevant chapters go up. They will be listed under one title, Along the Road, with each chapter being a single one-shot.

CHAPTER 11

As the wedding approached, Kurt made arrangements to take a leave from his show, which had opened to rave reviews. His work at Vogue.com, as well as his independent designing and costume design work, were largely done on his own time, so other than telling Isabelle he would be unavailable for a couple of weeks, there were no arrangements to be made for those.

The guest lists were finalized and the invitations sent. Other than being astounded at the sheer number of people they discovered they knew and wanted to share in their happiness, there was little surprise to the guest list. Only one conflict arose: Blaine felt they should invite Sebastian Smythe, as he had been a Warbler. Kurt pointed out that first, he had not been in the group with either of them, and second, he had hit on Blaine despite knowing Blaine was dating Kurt and finally, even more important, he had severely injured Blaine, causing him to require surgery, while attempting to injure Kurt. Blaine’s mother intervened, siding with Kurt; Kurt won the argument, and no more arguments or discussions arose regarding the list. 

Blaine’s mother made more frequent trips to New York as the wedding grew nearer. On one afternoon, in which she, Kurt, and Blaine were to make the final choices of flower arrangements, cakes, and tuxes, Blaine finally broke his silence. “You two do know that I know what you’re doing, right?”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Kurt asked innocently.

“Everything you let me choose from is either all stuff you like already, or it’s the one thing you want plus a bunch of stuff so awful there’s no way I’d choose it,” he said. “That way, there’s no chance I’ll pick something you don’t want.”

“Um,” Kurt tried to formulate an answer that didn’t sound ridiculous, while exchanging guilty looks with Blaine’s mom that made it clear they were caught.

“I knew it!” Blaine exclaimed.

“You already said that,” Kurt pointed out.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure until you two looked at each other,” Blaine told him.

“How?” His mom inquired.

“Really, Mom? It’s not like this is the first time you’ve done this. You do it to Dad, you do it to Cooper, and you do it to me. We all know about it. We joke about it.” Blaine informed her.

“None of you have said anything to me before,” she said, sounding a bit petulant.

“And you can do it, we’re used to it, although we have discussed picking one of the obvious losers to teach you a lesson,” Blaine said to his mother, who blanched at the thought, before he turned to Kurt, saying, “But I wanted you to know that I know, and to let you know it’s not acceptable between us, except for the wedding. I’d let you have anything you wanted for this. Once we’re married, if you ever try to pull something like this again, I will call you on it, or pick something you hate intentionally just to punish you, and you’ll have to live with it. Understand?”

Kurt nodded sheepishly, before saying, “I really do love you. Does that help?”

Blaine snorted but smiled.

* * *

Finally, the day of the wedding arrived, on the heels of one of the worst blizzards the northeast had seen in years. It had hit on Christmas Day and lasted three days. By late morning on the twenty-eighth, the airports were reopened, along with major highways in the cities. Most major roads were open that afternoon, with side streets following that evening. Blaine had spent the time since the weather predictions began talking of snow the week before Christmas trying to calm Kurt down. The morning of the twenty-ninth found him massaging Kurt’s shoulders as Kurt stared at the television and listened to the reports of which roads were open and closed upstate. They were due to leave around noon, along with most of their friends, most of whom had flown in the day before if they weren’t already in New York. The original plan had been for Blaine’s parents to drive up separately, one of them bringing Blaine’s car, which had been left in Ohio, but with the weather, they decided to fly, and rent a car once in New York. Kurt and Blaine were waiting for the rental car company to deliver their car, and as they waited, Kurt sat stiffly and chewed his impeccably manicured nails, stopping only when Blaine pointed out what he was doing. When the knock sounded on the door Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin, and Blaine breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the rental car representative. The man brought reports from the agency’s other offices around the state, reporting that major roads were clear, and the only troubles were on rural roads and side streets. Kurt paled at that, but a quick call to the inn assured them that there would be no trouble reaching it. 

They loaded their bags into the car and headed out slowly, taking care to watch for slick patches on the road. Kurt kept his coat on in the car and turned the heater up on his side, while Blaine reached into the back for a blanket to tuck around him. Kurt smiled at him gratefully, thankful he was about to marry someone as wonderful and thoughtful as Blaine. 

They arrived at the inn around dusk, giving their bags to the bellman to place in their rooms before rushing to the rehearsal at the church. The church was even more beautiful than the pictures, and Kurt sent a silent thank you to Mrs. Anderson for finding it. The rehearsal was over quickly, as there wasn’t really much to rehearse; they’d all been in weddings before, other than the ring-bearer, three year old Stephen, so they all knew what to do. A few attempts to coach Stephen led to the decision to have him go out with his father and stay with him throughout the ceremony. After that, everyone trooped back over to the inn for the rehearsal dinner, before returning to their own rooms for the night. Kurt and Blaine lingered in the dining room until Mercedes pointed out it was nearly midnight, and they didn’t want to see each other on the day of the wedding until the actual wedding, at which point they scrambled for their separate rooms.

Neither was able to sleep well. Kurt blamed it on wedding nerves, running through all the things that could go wrong over and over in his head. Blaine was perhaps the more honest of the two; he knew they belonged together, and no matter what happened, they were getting married tomorrow, which was perfect and right, regardless of anything else that might go wrong. He blamed his inability to sleep on the fact that he was alone. Even at home, he slept restlessly until Kurt was in bed with him; he suspected Kurt was the same, since Kurt going to bed alone usually resulted in the bed looking like it had been attacked by a wild animal. The result was a late night and an early morning and two tired grooms.

Kurt watched the sun rise over the trees, making the snow glitter like diamonds. Suddenly, he began to worry they might not make it to the church because of snow on the roads, even though no new snow had fallen. By the time Finn came to check on him, he was in a panic. Finn tried briefly to calm him before calling in reinforcements. Soon, his room was crowded as his attendants surrounded him. All things considered, the two grooms had decided to surround themselves with their best friends, regardless of gender. Finn was Kurt’s best man, joined as attendants by Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, Quinn, Tina, Puck and Mike. Artie had been asked, but work on the west coast had made him uncertain he would even be able to make the wedding. It fell to Mercedes and Santana to calm him, Santana saying, “Hey, we’re all here, where the party is, and there’s booze. What more do we need?”

Mercedes sent her a glare, telling him, “Look, Boo, the roads were clear last night. Nothing’s changed. The minister made it last night, she’ll make it this morning. And one way or another, you’re getting married today. Nothing else matters. Flowers don’t matter, the cake doesn’t matter, none of it does. All that matters is that you and Blaine love each other, and you’re going to tell each other that in front of all of us, as if we didn’t already know, and promise forever. And he does love you, you know. So much. As much as you love him.”

“Not possible,” Kurt sniffled, finally starting to feel better.

“Yeah, it is,” She told him, “You can’t miss it, any time you look at him. Now let’s go make you beautiful for him, because right now you’re a hot mess.” 

Things were a bit more serene in Blaine’s room as Cooper, Sam, Wes, David, Thad, Trent, Jeff and Nick filtered in through the morning. He just had to make a couple of phone calls to iron out a single wrinkle in the plans, and then he relaxed. His groomsmen were supposed to be keeping him calm, but it wasn’t necessary. As Cooper told tales of Hollywood and the former Warblers entertained Sam with stories of their show choir days, to compare with the New Directions, Blaine drifted off. Cooper noticed and started to wake him, but Sam stopped him. “Let him sleep,” he instructed. “I don’t think he sleeps well alone anymore, and he’ll need to be alert later. One of them should be, anyway. Mercedes told me she doesn’t think Kurt slept at all last night, and he’s a disaster.” Cooper bowed to the superior knowledge of a best friend over that of a much older and more distant brother, even though he was the best man. They placed a pillow under Blaine’s head to make him more comfortable and continued their conversation in more subdued tones. 

The attendants bustled back and forth between the rooms during the day, keeping tabs on both men. Mercedes assumed the duties of best man/maid of honor, sending Finn to tend the ring bearer and make sure he took a nap so he wouldn’t be fussy during the ceremony. She sent a knowing smile towards Quinn’s retreating back as she followed Finn to his room to help him with the children.

Around mid-afternoon, Kurt began to prepare in earnest. Looking pleadingly at Mercedes, he asked, “Is Blaine alright? I mean, everything’s going well in his room, right?”

“Honey, while you’ve been in here panicking and working yourself into a state, he’s been taking a nap. He’s fine. I’m not so sure about you,” Mercedes told him.

“What?” Kurt shrieked. “He’ll never be ready in time.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. He’ll be ready. He’s been ready for ages.”

Right on cue, Blaine’s mother knocked on the door. Mercedes let her in, and she quietly approached Kurt. “Kurt, Honey, I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news.”

“Oh, no. Oh, my God. Blaine changed his mind, didn’t he? He’s backing out, isn’t he?” Kurt began to panic and looked as though he might hyperventilate. Blaine’s mother suddenly looked horrified and much more nervous.

“Calm down and listen to her,” Mercedes instructed in a tone that brooked no nonsense.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Blaine’s mom said, very glad for Mercedes’ presence. “It’s the carriage. The path through the woods isn’t even really a road, and well, it’s not clear. What I’m trying to say is they can’t get the carriage down the path, so you’ll just have to come back here by car. We were taking Blaine and you were going with your folks, and I’ve already talked to them. We’ll ride back with them and you and Blaine can take our car.”

Kurt looked as though he might cry, but then Mercedes stepped in and said, “Listen, Kurt, all that matters is that you’re getting married today. It doesn’t matter how you get to the church or back. All that matters is that you’re going to have a husband at the end of the day.” 

Kurt took a deep breath and looked at her gratefully. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“Of course I am. Now let’s finish getting you ready,” she said, as Blaine’s mother retreated.

Blaine’s mother hurried down the hall to Blaine’s room, where he was now awake and in the process of dressing. Smiling, she informed him, “It’s done, he knows about the carriage.” Blaine beamed his thanks to her as she continued, “You look so handsome. I can’t wait to watch you get married.” 

He leaned in to kiss her cheek before turning back to the mirror to finish his hair. It was now usually free of gel, and he and Kurt both preferred it that way, but he was trying to reach a happy medium between the gelled-down helmet of his high school days and his hair’s now usual state of wild curls. He was beginning to think he should have practiced this, before abandoning the attempt. To the astonishment of his groomsmen, he stripped out of his tux, laid it across a chair, and entered the bathroom. A moment later they heard the shower.

Sam opened the door to the shock of a few of the former Warblers, yelling into the room, “Hey, shave. Kurt made Cooper and I promise to make sure you shave, and to shave you by force if necessary. He doesn’t want any stubble in the wedding pictures.”

“My stubble’s sexy,” Blaine called back.

“Yeah, well I don’t know about Coop, but I’m not willing to die so you can be sexy. And Kurt will kill me, so you’re going to shave,” Sam replied.

Blaine just laughed. He emerged, freshly shaved, a few moments later, back in his underwear, and redressed. His hair was wild and free of product, but everyone knew Kurt loved it, so no one said a word. He was straightening his own bow tie after helping several of his groomsmen tie theirs when they heard a knock at the door. 

Jeff opened it to find Mercedes, hands on hips. “You’d best be ready in there, because it’s time to go,” she announced.

“We are,” Blaine smiled, motioning to the groomsmen who would follow he and his parents in two cars. The journey to the wedding was carefully coordinated, from leaving the rooms to the wedding march, to prevent the grooms from seeing one another before the ceremony began.

Half an hour later, Kurt entered his parents’ rental car, along with Finn and Stephen. Quinn and the rest of the girls had commandeered Carole Ann, who although dressed as a flower girl (and officially listed that way on everything) would, at only a year old, sit with her grandparents during the ceremony. They were following in one car, Puck and Mike in another.

Finally, they arrived at the church. As they pulled in, they saw Artie struggling to extract his wheelchair from his car and set it on the icy pavement. Puck and Mike bolted from their car as soon as they managed to get it parked, Mike taking the wheelchair up to the church entrance while Puck carried Artie. Kurt rushed to give him a hug. “I’m so glad to see you! I thought you weren’t going to make it,” he gushed. He was amazed; Artie had taken a job with a production company in L.A. immediately upon graduating a year ahead of schedule last spring.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, but let me tell you, the weather did not help. Then, trying to find a car I could borrow since most rental car places don’t have handicapped accessible ones . . .“ Artie trailed off, as Kurt looked at him with understanding and gratitude for the effort required to get there. Puck placed Artie in his chair and Artie took it from there, wheeling himself into the church and straight to Kitty, who squealed with delight.

Kurt looked to Mike, who, as Tina’s fiancée, was more up to date on the members who had joined during Tina and Blaine’s senior year. “Yeah, they’re still a thing,” he said, “I’m not sure exactly what, but they’re something. She’s going to school in Palo Alto, but I hear she spends a lot of weekends in L.A.” Kurt smiled. He wouldn’t have guessed it when he first met her, but Kitty truly cared for Artie, and was sweeter than he thought she would turn out to be, and he wanted Artie to be happy.

As Kurt waited outside, Finn went inside to tell everyone they were there. Blaine was hidden safely in one room, so Kurt was shepherded into another. Fifteen minutes later, everyone was seated and it was time for the ceremony to begin. 

Blaine walked down the aisle, escorted by his parents. He was followed by the attendants, more or less in pairs: Finn and Cooper, with Stephen between them, then Mercedes and Sam, Santana and Wes, Brittany and David, Quinn and Thad, Tina and Trent, Puck and Nick, and finally, Mike and Jeff. Once all the attendants were at the altar on their respective sides, the Wedding March began to play, and Kurt was finally walking down the aisle, escorted by Burt and Carole, his eyes fixed on Blaine waiting for him at the altar. 

Despite Kurt’s fears, there were no disasters. No one’s dress ripped, no one’s tux fell apart, Blaine didn’t leave him, he didn’t faint, the roads weren’t blocked by snow. Everyone was thrilled to be there, watching the two men they all loved get married. Although no one could quite put their finger on it, they all knew there was something about the wedding that said Kurt. Kurt, of course, knew. He had designed the beautiful bridesmaids’ dresses, ice blue silk shot through with silver, reminiscent of the snow outside, fitted perfectly on top, but full below the waist to allow dancing at the reception. The groomsmen and grooms wore tuxes that were classic yet somehow different. Kurt had designed them, and they were tailored carefully to each wearer; he had had the most trouble with Blaine’s, as his groom had a tendency to wiggle, squirm, and giggle during fittings – at once point prompting Kurt to threaten to stab him with a pin while attempting to get the crotch and back seams fitted properly. Each of the men wore cummerbunds that matched the girls’ dresses, and a black bow tie, except for Kurt, whose bow tie matched the dresses as well – something that Blaine insisted on, after seeing the fabric near Kurt’s eyes. Kurt and Blaine’s mother had designed all the floral arrangements and other decorations, and they had been perfectly executed by the chosen florists and decorators. The scene was one out of a fairy tale or a fantasy; the only difference was that this was real, and Kurt was really, finally, getting to marry the man of his dreams.

As he approached the altar, Kurt’s father hugged him, and Carole planted a quick kiss on his cheek, before they each squeezed his hand and Kurt took the last few steps by himself, thinking joyfully that they were the last he would ever take alone. He ascended the steps and faced Blaine, taking both of Blaine’s hands in his. The minister said something that both men missed, too busy staring into each other’s eyes, smiling like they would never stop. A few minutes later, she said, “Um, gentlemen, if you would turn your attention to me for a minute, we can get this show on the road,” and the spell was broken as the congregation laughed and Kurt and Blaine exchanged sheepish looks before turning to face the minister. Addressing the congregation again, she quipped, “Believe it or not, ladies and gentlemen, when the happy couple is too wrapped up in each other to notice their own ceremony, it’s usually a good sign.” Focusing again on the men before her, she told them, “I know you’re a bit behind, so let’s bring you up to date. We all know why we’re here, and you’ve been given away. Oh, and no one here seems to be able to think of any reason why you shouldn’t get married. I believe you both had something to say to each other before your friends and family?”

Turning to Kurt and taking his hands, Blaine began, “Kurt, it’s a miracle that we’re here today. First, we were friends, and as special as that was, this is so much more, and I’m sorry it took me so incredibly long to figure out how wonderful you are, and how much I wanted to be more than friends, because I know you realized it right off the bat. Sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake, so thank you for still being there once I figured out what was apparently blatantly obvious to everyone other than me, if what our friends tell me now is true.” A wave of giggles went through the church as a number of the attendants nodded in agreement. “We’ve made our mistakes, and we’ll make more; we’ve hurt each other, and as much as I hope we won’t, I know we’ll do it again. But I believe that we’ll make it; we’ll forgive each other for whatever happens, large or small, and we’ll be stronger for it, because we love each other, and we need that love more than we need food to eat, water to drink, or air to breathe. Without it, without each other, we cannot truly live.”

Kurt swallowed. He shouldn’t have ever agreed to let Blaine go first, because now he was wondering how on earth he was going to be able to talk around the huge lump in his throat and he was blinking back tears. He took a deep breath and prayed that his theater training would get him through this speech. “Blaine, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, on the stairs at Dalton. And I would like to take a minute to thank Puck for sending me to spy on the Warblers. Without you, Puck, I would never have met Blaine, and I might have decided to give up theater and go into espionage, a career for which I am obviously not suited.” Again, laughs echoed through the church. “But Blaine, I’m so glad that you were blind to how far and fast I had fallen that day, because it allowed us to become friends. And through it all, being boyfriends, breaking up, getting back together, being roommates, being lovers, it’s made us stronger. And being friends means we’ll be better husbands to each other. Being friends means we’ve made it through all the stupid things that we’ve done, to ourselves and each other. I wish I could say we’ve gotten smarter, and we won’t do stupid things anymore, because God knows, we’ve already done our share, but I’m pretty sure that we’re not, so I think the best we can hope for is to not do the same things again. But whatever we do, our friendship, and our love, will get us through. Because I do love you, Blaine, and I know you love me, and I plan on spending the rest of my life, no matter what happens, with you, showing you just how much I love you.”

As Kurt finished, the two began to lean towards each other, only to hear the minister say, “Not yet, boys. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you when.” Kurt and Blaine stood up straight again, Kurt thinking he liked this woman more than any other clergyperson he’d ever met, even if she was keeping him from doing what he wanted to do right now, which was kiss Blaine until he was forced to come up for air; she was smart, witty, and sarcastic, and clearly didn’t condemn them for being gay. She continued, “Okay, let’s get on with this, because these two young men are clearly looking forward to the end of the ceremony. Do you, Blaine Devon Anderson, take Kurt Ethan Hummel to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and hold, from this day forward?”

Breathlessly, Blaine said, “I do.”

Looking to Kurt, she said, “Do you, Kurt Ethan Hummel, take Blaine Devon Anderson to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward?”

Kurt’s voice rang clearly through the church, “I do.”

She then instructed Blaine to repeat after her, saying, “Okay, the first bit is a bit repetitive of what we’ve already done, but we’ll get to the good part pretty quickly,” and shortly his voice could be heard ringing through the church.

“I, Blaine Devon Anderson, take you, Kurt Ethan Hummel, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, from this day forward, until death do us part.”

A minute later, it was Kurt’s turn. “I, Kurt Ethan Hummel, take you, Blaine Devon Anderson, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, from this day forward, until death do us part.”

“Do we have the rings?” The minister asked.

Finn and Cooper each reached into their inside breast pocket and produced a ring. Kurt and Blaine had wanted Stephen to actually carry the rings on his little pillow, but they had been overruled by not only Carole and Blaine’s mom, but by Finn, who said, “Come on, guys. You’ve met him. He’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached.” Each best man handed the rings to the minister, who said a prayer over them. She then handed Kurt’s ring to Blaine.

Blaine slid the ring onto the ring finger of Kurt’s left hand, saying as he did so, “Kurt, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and our love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. With this ring, I thee wed.”

The minister handed Blaine’s ring to Kurt, who took Blaine’s left hand and slid the ring on Blaine’s ring finger, saying, “Blaine, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows, and our love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. With this ring, I thee wed.”

The minister said, “I now pronounce you husbands, and we’ve finally made it to the part you’ve been waiting for. You may now kiss your groom.” Huge smiles spread over both men’s faces, and they leaned in for a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The wedding guests applauded, and they continued to kiss, until giggles forced them apart when they heard the minister say, “This looks like it might take a while. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Blaine and Kurt Hummel-Anderson.”

The men turned to face their family and friends for the first time as a married couple, taking each other’s hands to walk, smiling, back up the aisle. 

The church was packed to the rafters, and for the first time, Kurt realized with astonishment just how many of their friends had come. Pretty much everyone who had been in either Glee Club or the Warblers with either of them was there, along most of the staff of Vogue.com, personnel from many of the major New York fashion houses, Blaine’s band, friends from the theater world including not only actors, dancers, and singers, but directors, writers, producers, choreographers, and theater staff (causing Kurt to wonder if Broadway had shut down for their wedding), friends from both Columbia and NYADA, including Cassie July and Carmen Tibedeaux, staff from the clubs and restaurants where they’d worked, and neighbors. David Karofsky was there, smiling and holding his boyfriend’s hand. Even Adam was there; the theater world was relatively small, and no one could afford to make enemies, so Kurt and Blaine had made the effort to reach out to him, and although it was difficult for both Blaine and Adam, the three had become friends. The only person missing of note was Rachel: she had expected to be Kurt’s maid of honor, and was very annoyed when she found out Finn was to be best man instead; Kurt realized how uncomfortable it would be for Finn if Rachel was also an attendant, and, to be honest, Kurt still couldn’t forgive her for what she had tried to do to Carole Ann, so he didn’t offer her a place as an attendant at all. Rumors had reached Kurt that she was furious and was planning to punish him, so he wasn’t surprised when he received her R.S.V.P. card with a note telling him that although she would be sad to miss his big event, she couldn’t possibly take time off from her show. The reality was that the show’s reviews had been poor, and although a lot of hype had been attached to it before it opened, it could never live up to the expectations that had been built up in the press, and it was in danger of closing early. However, he couldn’t bring himself to care about her pettiness or her absence. Almost everyone he loved was there, watching him marry the person he loved most of all.

After walking up the aisle, the two men retreated to the room where Blaine had waited before the wedding. The guests left, heading back to the inn for the reception. Kurt and Blaine reentered the church, along with the wedding party, their parents, and Carole Ann. The next half hour was spent taking picture after picture. They would have plenty to choose from. Then the photographer said, “Okay, I have all I need with the wedding party and the parents, but I need just a few more with the grooms.” Kurt couldn’t imagine any more were needed, but went along with it. He barely noticed when his parents and Blaine’s parents left. It wasn’t until afterward, when the photographer told them she was done until the reception, that Kurt realized the problem.

“Oh my God, Blaine, our parents left! We drove with them and the carriage can’t get through the snow. How are we supposed to get to the reception?”

Blaine smiled and took his hand. “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously, leaning in to kiss Kurt tenderly. He reached out to open the door to the church, watching Kurt the entire time, and was rewarded when Kurt’s eyes grew large and round and his mouth dropped open. He gently slid Kurt’s dress coat up his arms and over his shoulders while Kurt continued to stare out at a sleigh, drawn by four grey Percherons. After donning his own coat, he took Kurt’s hand and pulled him out, saying, “Come, on, we have a party to get to.” Once he had Kurt seated, he took a moment to tuck the heavy blankets that were stashed in the sleigh around them before signaling the driver. Kurt’s smiling face and laughter as they traveled the carriage path through the woods to the inn were all Blaine needed to know his surprise had worked out just as he’d planned.

They arrived at the inn to find everyone outside waiting for them. Kurt quickly wondered if he was the only one who hadn’t known about the sleigh, but Mercedes assured him a few minutes later that in fact, only Blaine and the grooms’ parents had known at the church, although everyone else was told once they arrived at the inn.

Going inside, the reception began. While the wedding had been all Kurt, the reception, from the music playing to playful, casual touches in décor, reflected Blaine. Blaine would have been happy to have everything focused on Kurt, but Kurt wanted the party portion of the evening to be more about Blaine. He would be the first to admit that he was more formal, and he wanted control over the formal part of the night, although small touches of Blaine were evident, from the fact that the wedding was in a church to Kurt’s bow tie; Blaine, on the other hand, was more casual and more comfortable in a fun, party type setting, and Kurt wanted the reception to reflect that. They dispensed with the formal reception line in favor of just greeting guests as they encountered them throughout the evening. Kurt did, however, keep control over the menu for the formal dinner that began the reception (“Blaine, it’s a wedding reception, not a kegger; we will not be eating college bachelor food.”). After several courses of elegant food, it was time to cut the cake. They stood together, smiling and both holding the knife, for a minute to let the photographer get her pictures before sliding the knife through the cake. They each took a forkful from the first piece cut, and seeing the mischief in Blaine’s eyes, Kurt hissed, “If you smash cake on my face I will be so mad . . . .” Blaine looked chastised and when given the okay by the photographer, gently fed Kurt the bite of cake on his fork as Kurt did the same for him. As they finished and the inn staff took over duties cutting and serving cake, Finn and Cooper took the stage.

“Wow, we finally got to see out little brothers get married,” Cooper began.

“For a while, I thought it was never going to happen,” Finn said.

The two bantered back and forth, rambling on together and telling stories. Somewhere in there each of them made at least one toast to the grooms, but mostly reminisced about their brothers, although Cooper had an edge, having known Blaine and been his big brother since Blaine’s birth, while Finn met Kurt in school and had only been his step brother since their junior year of high school. That, however, did not stop Finn from matching Cooper story for story. Everyone was laughing, including the grooms, by the time Cooper said, “Finn, I think it’s about time these guys showed us what they’ve got. Is everyone ready for the first dance?” Finn nodded, and a round of applause from the guests indicated their approval. Most of the guys from glee club and a few of the Warblers had made their way to the stage to join Finn and Cooper, and Blaine led Kurt onto the dance floor. Kurt had no idea what was coming, but prayed it wouldn’t be disco. He knew it wouldn’t be “Come What May;” even though he still loved the song, as far as singing it at the wedding, it belonged to an earlier time, and it had become entangled in his history with Adam, so it was out. Sam took a microphone and began to sing as the band started to play. Kurt smiled and moved into Blaine’s arms as he recognized the song, and the men on the stage took turns singing.

“I wish I was singing to you, because this is exactly how I feel,” Blaine told him as he held him tenderly in his arms and they danced slowly.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing  
Watch you smile while you are sleeping  
While you’re far away and dreaming  
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender  
I could stay lost in this moment forever  
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don’t want to close my eyes  
I don’t want to fall asleep  
‘Cause I’d miss you baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

‘Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream would never do  
I’d still miss you baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

Lying close you feeling your heart beating  
And I’m wondering what you’re dreaming  
Wondering if it’s me you’re seeing  
Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we’re together  
And I just want to stay with you  
In this moment forever, forever and ever

I don’t want to close my eyes  
I don’t want to fall asleep  
‘Cause I’d miss you, baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

‘Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream would never do  
I’d still miss you baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

I don’t want to miss one smile  
I don’t want to miss one kiss  
Well I just want to be with you  
Right here with you, just like this

I just want to hold you close  
I feel your heart so close to mine  
And just stay here in this moment  
For all the rest of time, yeah, yeah, yeah!

Don’t want to close my eyes  
Don’t want to fall asleep  
‘Cause I’d miss you, baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

‘Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream would never do  
I’d still miss you baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

I don’t want to close my eyes  
I don’t want to fall asleep  
‘Cause I’d miss you, baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

‘Cause even when I dream of you  
The sweetest dream would never do  
I’d still miss you baby  
And I don’t want to miss a thing

Don’t want to close my eyes  
I don’t want to fall asleep, yeah  
I don’t want to miss a thing  
I don’t want to miss a thing 

As the music died down, the two shared one more slow, sweet kiss before parting. As the band began the next song, Blaine led his mother onto the dance floor, and Kurt made his way over to Carole. “May I have this dance?” He asked. He had discussed this with Finn and Blaine. Although Carole could never replace his mother, and had never tried, she did do her best to fill that role to the extent he would let her; she was the closest thing he had had to a mother since he was eight years old, and as she had been his stepmother for six years, he’d had her almost as long as he’d had his mother. Carole was surprised; she hadn’t expected this. She looked back at Burt, who smiled and motioned for her to get up as Kurt took her hand, and they joined Blaine and his mother on the dance floor.

After the boys finished dancing with their mothers, they took the stage to sing together and everyone spilled onto the dance floor. The evening continued with a never ending rotation of singers. Kurt and Blaine alternated between dancing together, dancing with their friends, singing, and taking time out to talk to guests and catch their breath. It was fun and casual. A few of the typical reception traditions, both old and modern, were missing: neither wanted to have a garter or to throw their boutonnieres, so nothing was thrown, and Kurt found “money dances” to be crass, so they didn’t have one, much to the Andersons’ relief. As it turned out, it didn’t matter; everyone was having too much fun to notice any omissions. 

As the evening wore on, however, the sleepless night began to show itself, and Kurt started to yawn. Seeing the yawn, Mercedes grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him up on stage for a duet, calling for Kurt and Blaine to dance together; as they took the floor, Mercedes said, “Okay, y’all, our two handsome grooms are starting to look a bit tired, and we want them to have enough energy to start their honeymoon, so this is going to be their last dance and then we’re sending them off to bed.” Catcalls erupted around the room and Kurt blushed all the way to his hairline, causing Blaine to laugh. “But don’t worry,” she continued, “The rest of us are going to keep the party going.” She then nodded at the band, and soon she and Sam were singing The Time of My Life. 

What Kurt and Blaine were doing was less dancing and more holding each other and swaying. Kurt kept trying not to yawn, while Blaine tried to keep from laughing at Kurt’s efforts. As the song ended, Blaine took Kurt’s hand and pulled him toward the grand staircase, their guest parting to let them through. As they made their way to the staircase, rice was tossed their way; Blaine smiled – he had wanted this, but Kurt thought it was messy, and had thought having the reception inside and staying at the reception location would mean they could avoid it, but a well-placed word with a few groomsmen had assured a shower of rice. They made their way upstairs, to the honeymoon suite. Kurt had spent the night there last night, and Blaine’s luggage had been moved there by the inn staff after they left for the wedding. Everything was ready for them to start their lives together.

“Ugh! I have rice everywhere. It’s in my hair, in my shirt, God, I think somehow it even ended up in my pants,” Kurt complained.

“Mmm. Let me help you with that,” Blaine offered, reaching out to take Kurt’s jacket and loosen his tie.

“Did you engineer the rice just to make sure I’d take my clothes off and not fall asleep fully dressed?” Kurt demanded.

“Maybe,” Blaine answered playfully. “Really, I didn’t. I mean, I did engineer the rice, but I didn’t think about where it would end up and the fact that it would make you want to undress. That’s just an added side benefit.” 

He continued to help Kurt undress, shedding his own clothes along the way, thinking as he did so that damn, that rice really DID get everywhere, all while kissing his new husband passionately and backing him toward the bed. After they had divested themselves of their clothing, Blaine laid Kurt tenderly on the bed and then lay down beside him. Before they went further, he needed to check one thing. “Baby, honestly, are you too tired? Because if you are it’s okay; we don’t have to do anything tonight. There’s no pressure. We have the rest of our lives.” Kurt answered by reaching up with one hand, pulling on the back of Blaine’s neck to bring him in for another kiss, while he ran the other down Blaine’s body. Shuddering, Blaine gasped, “I’ll take that as a no, you’re not too tired.” They took their time, making love slowly, sweetly, exploring as if this was new territory. Eventually, however, exhaustion took its toll, and they both had to admit that as good as the concept of making love over and over again all night sounded, they were not up for another round.

“Mph. Never moving again,” Blaine mumbled, half into a pillow.

Kurt rolled over and began to stand on somewhat unsteady legs. At a questioning look from Blaine, he muttered, “I’m icky and gross. You too. Have to clean up.”

Blaine protested but Kurt ignored him, so Blaine got up to help, half afraid that in the state he was in Kurt might fall and hurt himself. Following Kurt into the bathroom, he saw the enormous Jacuzzi tub for the first time. They would be leaving to start their honeymoon tomorrow afternoon, so this might be their only chance to use it, and Blaine was not going to let the opportunity go to waste. Kurt was groping for a washcloth, but Blaine pulled him toward the tub and sat him down on the edge of it while it filled. Once it was full, he stepped in and helped Kurt in, and then turned on the jets. He gently cleaned Kurt off, and allowed Kurt to do the same to him before simply cuddling together until the water started to cool. By then Kurt was dozing off every few minutes, so Blaine decided that both for comfort and safety they should move to the bed. 

Back in bed, they snuggled together. Kurt was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Blaine followed soon after, with his last thought that this was the most perfect day he could have ever imagined.

* * *

The next day they took their time. They had arranged for a late check-out, and used some of the extra time to relax and enjoy the tub again. Room service was ordered and eaten, and they finally called for a bellman around one in the afternoon. It was a five hour drive back to New York, and their plane left at nine thirty that evening; they wanted to leave a bit of extra time, just in case anything went wrong, and they wanted to arrive early, since security was higher on international flights. They would be celebrating New Year’s in the air.

Blaine awoke as the plane began its descent. Kurt was still asleep. He looked so peaceful that Blaine really didn’t want to disturb him, but he knew if Kurt missed his first chance to see Paris he would never forgive him and what happened when Kurt found out would be anything but peaceful, so he leaned over and gently kissed him awake. “Hey, baby, wake up. We’re almost there. You’ll be able to see Paris in a few minutes.” 

Kurt woke up with a start, looked out the window and then up at the little lights above his head. The seat belt light was not on, so he grabbed a small toiletries kit from under the seat, muttered, “Morning breath,” and climbed out over his husband, heading for the small lavatory in the front of their first class section. He returned a few minutes later and settled in, eagerly looking for the first glimpses of the city to be visible through the clouds.

The honeymoon, complete with first class plane flights and luxury accommodations, was a wedding gift from Blaine’s parents. Blaine had been to Paris a few times on business trips and vacations with his parents, plus a school trip with the Warblers, but Kurt had never been, and Blaine’s parents were well aware of how much Kurt longed to go there some day. They spent the next week and a half prowling the streets of Paris, visiting the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame, and many other of the most popular tourist destinations, and exploring the shops that crowded the ancient city in between. They stopped for food and coffee in tiny street side cafes and bistros near whatever they were visiting that day. The only thing that limited their explorations was cold; it had been a hard winter in Europe as well as in the United States, and when the wind blew it seemed even colder. Blaine could have happily walked along the Seine for hours, but when he noticed Kurt beginning to shiver, he would quickly find a shop, café, or museum to duck into, finding a reason to stay until Kurt warmed up. Unsure of when they might be able to return, Blaine made sure they visited Moulin Rouge one evening, knowing that for Kurt’s first trip to Paris to be complete that was a must. Nights were spent walking in the moonlight before returning to the hotel to hold each other through the night, making love as often as they wanted and without regard to anyone’s schedule. It was a gift neither would ever forget, and they were both incredibly grateful.

Soon, however, it was time to return home to New York. They left at eight in the morning Paris time, and arrived home just after ten in the morning East Coast time. It took nearly three hours to clear customs, not due to any problems, but because of the huge crowds. “Note to self: never fly back into New York from out of the country. If we’d flown into Ohio the crowds wouldn’t be so bad,” Kurt grumbled.

Blaine laughed, “I’m not sure we could get direct flights from Paris to Ohio, but you’re right, I’m pretty sure customs is less crowded in Ohio.”

It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon by the time they made it back to their apartment. Kurt wanted to go to bed, but Blaine told him the best thing for jet lag was to stay up until as close to his normal bedtime as possible. Kurt wasn’t happy about it, but set about putting things away from the trip, lining things up for the laundry and dry cleaners. Blaine knew from experience that this was the worst part of any trip to Europe: adjusting to the time at home once one returned. He had another week before his classes began again for his final semester; he did have one meeting about his latest play, but not for three days, and he wasn’t expected at band practice until the day after tomorrow. Kurt, on the other hand, was expected at the theater tomorrow, and had to bring his A-game, as he was resuming his role as the lead in a smash Broadway show; he couldn’t afford to take several days to adjust. Around five Blaine ordered a pizza, and once it came they ate and got ready for bed. Blaine managed to read for an hour, but Kurt fell asleep as soon as he collapsed on the bed. Blaine just prayed that Kurt would manage to sleep straight through until he had to wake up, rather than waking up in the middle of the night, when it would be morning in Paris.

Fortunately, Kurt’s need for sleep overwhelmed whatever internal forces might have aligned with Paris time, and he slept until it was time to prepare to leave for the theater. It must have been enough, because the next morning the papers and internet both heralded the triumphant return of Kurt Hummel-Anderson, née Hummel, to Broadway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for Kurt and Blaine's first dance is I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith, from the album Armageddon: The Album, written by Diane Warren.
> 
> The Time of My Life is from the Movie Dirty Dancing.
> 
> Again, please review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please, please leave comments! I really want to know what you think. There's lots of celebration in this chapter, and hints about what's to come later. I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 12

A few months passed, and Blaine’s second professionally produced play was set to open off-Broadway a couple of weeks after graduation. The major difference between this one and the last one was that this was officially an off-Broadway tryout, with plans to move to Broadway if the show was successful. The producers and director had also consulted him about many aspects of the play, and he had ended up acting as both assistant director and choreographer. The producers had also been thrilled that working with Blaine meant getting Kurt to design their costumes, not something an off-Broadway theater could easily pull off anymore, given Kurt’s hectic schedule. Blaine was beginning to create a buzz in the theater world, just as Kurt did.

Kurt had been busy with his show and with his costume and independent design work, as well as Vogue.com. Several of his designs had been picked up by major fashion houses. A week before Blaine’s graduation, he received a call from one of the top designers. He had heard that other houses were interested in Kurt’s work, and had used some of his designs, just as his house had. He wanted Kurt to design for him exclusively. It was an incredible opportunity, but Kurt was unwilling to give up his Broadway career yet, and still enjoyed costume design work. After a bit of negotiating, they struck a deal: Kurt would design couture for him exclusively for a minimum of one year, but could continue to work in the theater and design costumes; in exchange, Kurt would be paid the same salary as his other young assistant designers, with a bonus depending on the success of his designs. For the second time, he was forced to call Isabelle and explain that he would have to leave Vogue.com, this time due to both time and a conflict of interest. This time, she hugged him, told him how much he would be missed, and wished him well, before going into her office to write an article about Vogue.com’s loss, and the rise of a new star in the fashion industry. At a few months shy of 24, Kurt found himself at a loss to explain his own success.

Blaine graduated, with Kurt and his parents sitting proudly in the audience. After his morning graduation, he left for meetings with his play’s director and producers, preparing for opening night, promising to meet them for dinner. Kurt and Blaine’s parents waited over an hour before cancelling their reservations, with Kurt making excuses, explaining that as a show geared up and final details had to be ironed out, sometimes schedules became unpredictable. They returned to the apartment and ordered takeout, and Blaine ate leftovers as he profusely apologized to all of them. Blaine’s parents were only somewhat mollified, but accepted the offer of brunch the next day before they left; Kurt made the reservations when it became clear that Blaine would not make it for dinner. Kurt was more understanding, having been in the position of working to get everything right before a show opened, but that night, they had a serious talk about communication and letting each other know if they would be unexpectedly delayed.

Blaine’s play was a success, and was soon being prepared to move to Broadway. Blaine was writing music and a new play during the day, while helping to prepare the ongoing play for its Broadway debut. He was also playing with his band several days a week. He and Kurt rarely saw each other, between their hectic schedules. Then Mike announced great news: the band had been offered a recording contract. The catch was the record company wanted them to tour. Blaine’s work on his current play would prevent him from doing that, and the truth was he still really wanted to try acting, at least once, and even if he could tour and do everything else he wanted, it would slow down work on his writing, and worse, keep him away from Kurt even more. He regretfully told Mike that he just couldn’t tour right now. Mike asked him to at least help out with the instrumentation, arrangement and vocals in the recording studio, to try to join them as a guest for a few shows, and to keep them in mind when he had new songs that weren’t for his shows and that he didn’t want to record himself. Blaine agreed. And with that, Blaine closed the “band” chapter of his life. He wasn’t averse to reopening it, should the time seem right, but for now, it was the right thing to do, both for himself and for he and Kurt.

As Blaine’s show prepared for its move, Kurt was faced with a choice: his original contract was nearly up with his current show, and they wanted him to extend it, but at the same time, he was being asked to audition for several other plays, and flat-out offered a couple. He discussed the matter with Blaine, and made his choice. He wanted to stay with his current show; it was comfortable, and provided a steady and predictable income, one that would allow Blaine to back off his other projects and audition, taking whatever roles he could get until he either achieved success or decided to fall back to one of his other pursuits. However, Blaine was adamant that he take the opportunities offered to him; if they extended his contract and waited, he might not have the same opportunities later. Kurt pointed out that leaving a hit show for a new one was a gamble: it might be a flop. Blaine, however, felt the chance was worth it. Kurt needed to prove that he was not a one-hit wonder, that he was versatile. And so Kurt let his producers know that he would be leaving, and began auditioning. 

He soon had four parts to choose from, two musicals and two non-musical plays. Since his last show had been a romantic comedy musical, he chose a dramatic play that was not a musical; he would be playing a tragic role, one with no happy ending. It was one that rang true to him; he kept thinking that on so many occasions, had his life been any different, in timing, in action, in his relationships, he might have easily become a tragic figure like the one he would be playing. 

As he read the play and prepared for rehearsals to begin, he realized how emotionally draining this role would be. It was much less physically demanding, and yet he was exhausted at the end of each day. Once rehearsals began, the effect was intensified. He needed his mornings of designing and phone calls to his boss, and Blaine beside him each night. He became a bit clingy, while at the same time becoming withdrawn, and Blaine began to worry. Finally, he sat Kurt down, insisting they talk about what was bothering him. Kurt ended up crying, babbling incoherently about how close he had come to being just like his character. Blaine didn’t really understand, and tried to get Kurt to talk to someone else, a therapist maybe, but Kurt refused. He wasn’t surprised; he didn’t really expect Kurt to agree to see a professional. He simply tried to be there, and gradually Kurt opened up more, talking about the many things in his life that had saved him when they could have gone so wrong: his dad’s acceptance of his sexuality, Dalton, meeting Blaine, Blaine befriending him, then becoming his boyfriend, Blaine convincing him to go to New York, getting into NYADA, getting back together with Blaine, marrying him. Talking seemed to help, and Kurt slowly started to seem more like himself, although Blaine still worried.

Blaine, on the other hand, began auditioning. He received a lead in a musical with ridiculous ease, making many who had been auditioning for years jealous. Rachel asked him to put in a good word for her, hinting strongly that she would make a great leading lady. Blaine secured an audition for her, but made her promise she would take any part offered. Since her play had closed early last spring, she had not been working steadily, and was waiting tables to make ends meet, but was still insisting on auditioning only for lead roles. She was in consideration, but the director and casting agent felt her chemistry with Blaine was lacking; she was eventually offered a role in the ensemble, which she grudgingly accepted, telling Blaine she would continue to audition, and would leave as soon as she got a leading role. Blaine wasn’t worried, as ensemble members came and went regularly, leaving for any number of reasons. He surprised even himself when his answer, when asked his opinion about who might be good for the lead character’s best friend, was Adam. Adam agreed to audition, and everyone, including Adam and Blaine, were astounded at how good their on-stage chemistry was. A sweet red-headed girl, Megan, was eventually cast as Blaine’s leading lady, and the three became fast friends, causing Kurt to complain good-naturedly when he went out with them about being the outsider. “Don’t worry,” Adam consoled him. “We are the three musketeers, but you’re D’Artagnan.” At the comment, Kurt nearly inhaled his drink, and ended up coughing and sputtering through his laughter.

* * *

Both shows turned out to be incredibly successful, and the two men were riding high on their accomplishments, when Kurt was asked to meet with the designer he had been working for. Kurt wasn’t really surprised, it had been nearly a year, and his designs had been quite successful. He expected to be offered an extension of their agreement, so he was quite surprised when the designer, Grant, told him he should leave. Seeing Kurt’s astonishment, he quickly went on to clarify, saying, “Kurt, you’re not just good, you’re excellent. You shouldn’t be working for someone else. Your designs should have your name on them, not mine.” 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Kurt gasped.

“Tell you what. I’ll help. I’ll introduce you to a couple of bankers who can help with loans if you need them, and I’ll co-sign with you if you need that. You can at least start with a small space; part of our office isn’t being used, you can sublease it and it won’t cost much. I can help arrange for you to have a show next winter at each of the Fashion Weeks. You’ll need to have that month available, take a leave from whatever show you’re working on, but you can do this. I wish you could get things ready for the shows in September, but even if you did, the schedules are already set. Take the year, show your work, see how it goes. If it doesn’t work out, you always have a home here. But honestly, I don’t think you’ll ever come back, at least not as an employee. Pretty soon, everyone will be fighting for your designs, no one will remember me, and I’ll regret this decision a lot. But you deserve this.” 

Kurt’s mind was reeling. He loved theater, but knew he couldn’t keep up his current pace forever, and he had to admit he loved fashion as well. “Um, can I take a few days, talk to my husband, and get back to you?”

“Of course. Why don’t we talk next week? Lunch, Monday?”

“Great,” Kurt managed before wandering out of the office in a daze.

He needed to talk to Blaine. Thank God it was Monday, and so they both had the night off. 

When Blaine walked through the door, he wasn’t surprised to see Kurt curled on the couch with a sketchbook. He knew Kurt liked to work at a desk, and planned to get him one, had even cleared a space in the second bedroom for it, but he hadn’t yet had the time. He knew Kurt would never buy one for himself, and he planned to surprise him with it. However, lacking a desk, Kurt usually sketched at the dining table or on the couch. What did surprise him was that Kurt looked nervous. And when Kurt looked up and said, “We need to talk,” he could only imagine the worst.

“S-sure,” he replied, dread beginning to creep through him.

“Grant, um, Grant wants me to leave,” Kurt began.

“He fired you? Why?” This made absolutely no sense. Blaine had only met Grant a couple of times, but he raved about Kurt’s talent when they did meet.

Grabbing Blaine’s hand, trying to calm him even though he was anything but calm himself, Kurt answered, “No, no, he didn’t fire me. He thinks I should design under my own name, put out my own collection. He offered to help, he’ll let me work out of unused space in his office cheap, and will help me get financing and a slot at the Fashion Week shows next winter.”

The sinking feeling in Blaine’s stomach was replaced by one of pure elation. “Baby, that’s great news. Why don’t you look happy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I don’t know if I can do it, if I can be wholly responsible for an entire line. There won’t be anyone to take up the slack if I can’t do it, there’ll just be me. And it will take more time, which I don’t have much of now, and I’d have to take at least a month off of any show I’m in, and I don’t want to give up theater yet. I know I will some time, I can’t keep this pace forever, but right now I’m still young and in demand, and what if I lose that? I’m not ready for that.” Kurt let his insecurities spill out.

A huge grin split Blaine’s face. “Love, you are so ready for this. You could put on an entire show with just the designs you have stashed in your sketchbooks now. And don’t think I don’t know about the grey portfolio on the shelf in the closet where you put your favorite sketches, the ones you don’t want anyone else to take credit for. If you need to cut back on something, start with costume design. You enjoy it, but not as much as performing or designing for actual people. Well, as close as models are to actual people. When you decide whether or not to stay with this show, let them know when you’ll need to take off if you decide stay. Otherwise, let them know when you’re cast next. Like you said, right now you’re in demand. That makes it easier to ask for time off, because the producers and casting agents are just happy to be able to get you at all. You can do this, I know you can.”

Kurt still wasn’t convinced, but Blaine’s confidence in him helped. “I’ll think about it. We’re supposed to meet in a week.”

“You are going to do this. You’re going to have your own line! I’m so excited! We have to go out,” Blaine gushed.

Kurt followed him until his last announcement. “What? Why?”

“Because we’re celebrating, you goof!”

“I was going to sketch tonight, and I have designs due tomorrow for that new play I was working on, and you said you wanted to write. What about that?”

“You’ve had the designs for the show ready for a week. Last week you were annoyed that they couldn’t move the meeting up, and you’ve just tinkered with them, only to go back to the originals, ever since you finished them. You’ve been sketching, you need a break, and I can write any time. This won’t happen every day, and we need to acknowledge it. Come on,” Blaine started being logical and ended with pleading.

He sent Kurt to change, then called their favorite Italian restaurant in Little Italy and made a reservation. “Kurt, they can’t get us in for a couple of hours, which is understandable given the short notice,” he called as he made his way back to the bedroom. As he reached the door, he stopped and stared. Kurt was standing in only his underwear, staring into the closet.

Kurt turned to face him, saying, “Good. I don’t know what to wear. If I’m going to be a designer, it should make a statement, but suddenly I can’t even manage to pick out the simplest thing. I don’t know if I can handle this, and I’ll need all the time I can get just to get dressed.”

By this time, getting Kurt dressed was the farthest thing from Blaine’s mind. Getting him the rest of the way undressed, however, was another matter. “Well, you’re going to have to pick something fast, later, because I think we need to start celebrating now,” he said, crossing the bedroom and pushing Kurt’s underwear from his hips quickly before scooping him up to carry him to the bed. He shed his own clothes in near record time and slipped into bed with Kurt, who had begun to protest.

“Baby, I love you, but if I don’t get started – “

“You’ll look perfect, no matter what you wear,” Blaine mumbled through the kisses he was planting along Kurt’s neck as he worked his way down.

Kurt’s protests died as soon as Blaine fastened his lips around Kurt’s cock. Suddenly he couldn’t remember what he had been doing or why it was important. Within moments he was moaning and calling Blaine’s name, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it long. A few minutes later, Blaine ran his tongue over his slit, and that was all it took. Screaming, “Oh, God!” he came down Blaine’s throat, Blaine swallowing around him, which just intensified the feeling. As he always did when he experienced an intense orgasm, he blacked out for a moment. He came to in Blaine’s arms, Blaine peppering his face with kisses.

“Hey, there you are. Welcome back,” Blaine murmured. Blaine sometimes became a bit dizzy with a strong orgasm, but he’d never lost consciousness. The first few times it had happened with Kurt, it was scary, but he was used to it now. He knew it would last only a few minutes. 

“Mmm. Love you. Give me a minute,” Kurt mumbled. He might be conscious, but he was sleepy. He knew, however, that he had to pull it together. They were going out to celebrate, and he was not about to let what had just happened be one-sided. He managed to gather himself, and slipped down in the bed, letting his hands roam Blaine’s body. 

He grinned as he reached his husband’s cock, still hard and waiting for him. He hummed as he sank down on it, running his tongue along the vein on the underside and around the head.

“Kurt, Baby, no, you can’t, um, your voice,” Blaine was trying to form coherent protests. Both of them became slightly raspy after giving the other a blow job, but it was much more noticeable with Kurt’s high, clear counter-tenor, and he was less able to sing through it. Blaine could usually sing passably the next day, but it sometimes took Kurt’s voice several days to return to normal.

Kurt let go long enough to look up at his husband with a grin. “I’m not singing in this show. I can do this as much as I want, and I think I should be doing it a lot more often.” With that, he resumed his actions with renewed vigor. Blaine groaned, and several minutes later he came with a shout as Kurt swallowed around him. Kurt crawled back up Blaine’s body before collapsing on him.

From under his husband, Blaine began trying to rouse him, as Kurt seemed headed rapidly toward sleep. “Come on, Baby. We have to get up. Remember? We were going to celebrate. We have to get dressed.” 

Shit. That’s what he was doing before Blaine came in. Kurt was brought back to reality. He looked at the clock and realized that if he didn’t hurry they’d be late for their reservations. He jumped up and began rifling through the closet as fast as he could, throwing clothes at Blaine while grabbing some for himself. It wasn’t perfect, it might not make the statement he was envisioning, but it would be at least somewhat fashionable. It would have to do. He didn’t think he looked any less put together than usual, so it should be acceptable. He did his hair as well as he could in five minutes, and was ready to leave by the time Blaine called from the living room, having wisely decided to leave the bedroom lest Kurt’s anxiety over his hurried choices turn to anger.

* * *

They reached the restaurant with fifteen minutes to spare, and as they waited for their table, they scanned the restaurant. Blaine was the first to spot Santana and Brittany, sitting at a table near the window. After telling the maitre’d where they’d be, they made their way over to the girls, greeting them and giving them hugs. They saw each other much less now that everyone other than Brittany had graduated and everyone was busy with their careers, despite constant promises to make time to get together.

“What are you doing here?” Kurt asked, somewhat surprised. Despite officially having a few nights off each week, Santana tended to spend most evenings at the club she managed, so Brittany scheduled evening dance classes.

“Celebrating!” Brittany exclaimed joyfully.

“So are we!” Blaine told her, before asking, “What are you celebrating?”

Santana took over, sending an odd warning glance in Brittany’s direction as she said, “Well, the guys who own the club are going through a nasty divorce, and the club is tied up in that. They finally agreed to sell it, since neither is about to let the other have it, and I’m buying it. They both testified that I’d been running the club for over a year in an attempt to prove the other wasn’t fit to have it, and copies of the depositions combined with the club’s financials, which are great, by the way, convinced some forward-thinking bankers to loan me the money to buy it.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped before he could stop it, but he recovered quickly. “That’s fantastic! Are you going to change anything?”

Santana shook her head. “I’ve already made the changes I wanted to make. Over the last several months, as the marriage fell apart, I pretty much just did whatever I felt like. There was no oversight. I was trying to make a model for a club I’d open someday, but since it’s already the way I want it, with an established clientele and a good reputation, and it’s available, why pass it up to take a chance on a new venture that might not make it? What are you celebrating?”

Kurt looked to Blaine and nodded. “The designer Kurt worked for thinks he needs to have his own line. He’s going to help him get started, and he extended an open invitation to come back if it doesn’t work out.”

Brittany squealed and jumped up, enveloping Kurt in a hug. Kurt, however, only half responded. Something was off. The girls weren’t being completely honest about something, he was sure. And there was something wrong about the table. He stared at it for a moment before figuring it out. Each woman had an entrée, and Brittany had a glass of wine, but only a glass of water sat next to Santana’s plate. They had been there long enough that if a waiter was simply refilling the glass, it should have been done by now. Santana had never been one to abstain from alcohol, but she had also never abused it to the point that it was a problem, so there was no reason to think she shouldn’t have a glass of wine. “So, if you’re celebrating, and it’s really your news, Santana, why don’t you have any wine?”

He was momentarily distracted from Santana by a delighted noise that escaped Brittany’s mouth before she closed it again, bouncing in her chair and grinning manically. Kurt made a mental note that if Santana kept her secret and he decided he wanted to know more than he wanted to honor their privacy, he could go to Brittany; it was kind of unfair to use her that way, but he knew he could get her to spill if he wanted to. He turned back to Santana, who glared briefly at Brittany before confessing, “Okay, I’m pregnant. Please don’t tell anyone yet. It’s not that I don’t want people to know, I do, actually, but it’s still really early. If something, you know, um, happened, I’m not sure I could take everyone’s sympathy and pity.”

Kurt had suspected as much when he saw water instead of wine, but Blaine was flabbergasted. “When? How?” He sputtered.

“I’m about six weeks along. We knew we wanted children, but we wanted to be on our feet first. Once the club deal seemed to be done, we decided it was a good time to start. Who knew it would take the banks nearly three months to get their act together and put together the financing? But the bankers were sure it would go through, and the guys I’m buying it from were willing to be patient because they both really love the club and they know I can run it well and be successful – I wasn’t some guy off the street who might run it into the ground. Like I said, since it’s a going concern, we don’t have the uncertainty of a new business. All that being said, we didn’t want to wait too long and suddenly find that one or both of us was too old, especially since we want more than one child. Since I don’t dance, or at least not for a living, and Brittany has some pretty high energy projects going on right now, it made more sense for me to have the first baby; she’ll have her turn next time. As for how, we used a sperm donor.”

“Congratulations,” Blaine breathed as he enveloped her in a hug.

“Yep. Give me hugs now, while you can still get close enough to do it,” she quipped.

Both missed Kurt’s muttered, “You’re twenty four, I think you have a little time.”

Just then, a hostess came and told them their table was ready, so they said goodbye, giving each woman a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before following her. 

At their own table, the conversation turned to Kurt’s designs, and all the things he would have to do: make prototypes, find models, convince buyers to place orders, find a manufacturer, the list went on and on. Then they talked about the shows they were in, Blaine’s show that he had written that was still running, and the new one he was working on. Eventually, they got around to talking about Santana buying the club, with Blaine saying they should go and Kurt joking that she’d try to draft him into waiting tables again. By tacit agreement, neither of them brought up Santana’s pregnancy.

* * *

As they made the walk back to the apartment from the subway station, Kurt was the first to break the silence on the topic that had been running through the back of both their minds all evening. “Do you think Santana’s sperm donor knew he was a sperm donor?”

Blaine’s mouth dropped open for a moment before he recovered and said, “You mean you think she picked up some guy in a bar and had a one night stand just to get pregnant?”

Kurt gave him a long, knowing look before sighing, “Well, this is Santana we’re talking about.”

Shaking his head, Blaine responded, “I don’t even want to go there. But I do want to talk about kind of a related topic.”

“Hmm. What is that?” Kurt asked as he interlaced his fingers with Blaine’s.

“Kids. We probably should have talked about this more before we got married, before we got engaged, really. But since we didn’t, now is as good a time as any. I, I need to know where you stand on kids, if we’re on the same page.”

“Well, I think we are. I mean, we know we both want kids, right?” Kurt prayed that the answer was still yes, that Blaine hadn’t changed his mind.

“Yeah, we do. At least, I know I do and I’m guessing from your answer that you do too. But, I mean, how many? And when? And I hate to be the one to have to point this out, but neither of us can get pregnant,” Kurt huffed a laugh as Blaine continued, “so we can’t just go pick someone up at a bar and never let that person know what we were doing, which brings us to our options. Do we want to adopt, or do we want to use a surrogate? And if we use a surrogate, which of us should be the biological father?”

“Wow. You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?” Kurt asked.

“Kind of, off and on. Especially when we see Finn and his kids, and you’re just so good with them. I always just wish I was watching you with our kids instead of someone else’s. And like Santana, I don’t want to wait until we’re too old. There’s eight years between Cooper and I. My parents were in their late twenties when they had him, but mid bordering on late thirties when they had me. Listening to us talk about growing up, sometimes it seems like we have completely different parents. They played more with him, had more fun with him, had more time with him. I don’t want us to be the rushed, too busy older parents with no time.”

“Blaine, Baby, have you looked at our schedules? If we were a straight couple with the same schedules we might never have a baby because we can barely find the time to have sex.”

“I know, but right now, we’re flexible. We make changes all the time, and I know we can both adapt and make changes. It seems the more you fall into a routine, the less flexible you get. And I don’t mean you you, I mean everyone.”

Kurt sighed. “Okay. Without committing to immediate action, let’s assume we want to do something in the next few years. I’m twenty four, you’re twenty three, let’s say before you’re thirty we want to start a family.” Blaine nodded. They entered the apartment building and climbed the stairs, still holding hands. As they opened the door, Kurt led him to the couch. “I want more than one child. I don’t want a reality TV number of children, but definitely more than one. I was an only child, and it was really lonely. I felt like I never had anyone to confide in or anyone who had my back. I mean, friends are nice, but it’s not the same. Finn’s great, but we didn’t become brothers until we were seventeen. And especially after my mom passed away, I didn’t want to worry my dad, so I kept a lot bottled up.”

“Okay,” Blaine said, “More than one. Two, maybe? But not too far apart. Cooper was so much older, and it always seemed to me like I could never measure up. In hindsight I can see that most of him seeming so much better and more accomplished than me came from the fact that he was older, and had had a lot more years in which to accomplish something. And, once he left, it was kind of like I was an only child; I mean, you know we weren’t close, so I wasn’t really calling to confide in him.”

“What’s acceptable, spacing wise?” Kurt wondered.

“At least two years, as many as five,” Blaine answered. “The younger we are when we start, the bigger I think the gap can be.”

“Mmm. That really only solves the old parents problem, not the much older sibling thing. Let’s aim for the middle, maybe three or four years apart?” Kurt mused.

“That’s acceptable,” Blaine said, in a way that made Kurt feel like they were negotiating points in a business deal or contract. “Adoption or surrogate? There are a lot of kids that could use homes, but honestly I really want a newborn, at least once. And I don’t think it’s as easy to adopt a newborn.” He looked at the ground and blushed a bit before turning back to his husband, “And when I see our future, I see it with a baby who looks like you.”

“Funny,” Kurt responded, “Because in my fantasies, the baby always looks like you.”

“We did say more than one, right?”

“What are you saying?”

“Think about it, Kurt. I could be the biological father of one child, and you could be the biological father of the other,” Blaine reasoned. “Any more, we adopt.”

Kurt smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “I like that idea.”

“Can we, um, can I, start looking into it? I mean, it will probably take a while to set everything up, and we should know what we’re looking at,” Blaine said.

“Sure, Sweetheart. And to try to get ready, we can volunteer to babysit more, maybe afternoons or Sunday or Monday evenings, for Stephen and Carole Ann.”

“Really?” Blaine sounded excited at the prospect, and Kurt knew then that they would be having a baby sooner than seven years from now, one way or another. Even though he’d proposed the timeline, he found he didn’t mind the prospect of having it shortened.

* * *

After that evening, little was mentioned about starting a family. Kurt knew Blaine was researching it, and he sometimes found him pouring over information on his computer rather than writing, but he was still writing, both music and plays, as well as performing, so Kurt didn’t mention it. A small slowdown in Blaine’s work product was acceptable. 

It was not, however, acceptable for Kurt, who had an entire show to prepare, nearly single-handedly, before February. Every minute Kurt wasn’t at his performances, he was focused on the fall/winter line he would be presenting. It was nearly unheard of for a twenty-five year old independent designer with no track record to be shown at all four major Fashion Weeks, but Grant worked some sort of magic and the buzz that had surrounded his debut into the fashion world thanks to Vogue.com and Vogue, courtesy of Isabelle, meant that not only was he being shown, but his shows were among the most anticipated of the season. The end result was that Kurt’s stress level was off the charts, and he spent hours bent over the design desk Blaine had bought him as a congratulations present the day after Kurt gave him the news.

As Kurt dove into designing, he didn’t really notice Blaine and Adam were spending more time together. However, in early fall, as he neared the end of his run and began preparing to audition again, the time Blaine was spending with Adam crept into Kurt’s consciousness. Finally, he couldn’t stand not knowing; he didn’t think there was anything wrong between he and Blaine, but he had to be sure. The next night they both had off, he put away his sketchbook and his audition pieces and prepared dinner for the two of them, something that had become increasingly rare. He texted Blaine and asked him to come home by seven. That should give him enough time, since his matinee performance was over at 5:30, just half an hour after Kurt’s.

By five after seven, Kurt was becoming anxious; he finished putting dinner on the table and reached for his phone, preparing to text Blaine. Just then, the door burst open, a smiling Blaine chattering on his phone, saying, “Okay, great. See you tomorrow. Right, ten o’clock.”

“Who was that?” Kurt asked as Blaine ended the call. He had a sinking feeling he knew who it was.

“Just Adam,” Blaine laughed, confirming Kurt’s fears.

Kurt was trying to hold it together, but he could feel everything slipping away from him. “Why are you meeting Adam tomorrow, and why have you been spending so much time together?”

“We have a meeting with a lawyer. My dad set it up.” He told Kurt.

“Why?” Kurt asked quietly, dreading the answer.

“To deal with all the contracts. I tried, but they don’t all make sense, and now I’m thinking I probably should have had a lawyer look at the ones I signed when I started the show I’m in. Oh, and I extended my contract; it was just easier with everything else going on.”

Kurt was confused. “What contracts?”

“I was trying to keep it a surprise, but I guess I’ve blown it. My next play. Well, it’s an old one, really, the first I wrote. But it’s been rewritten and expanded.”

“Okay. So you have a new, sort of old play in the works. I don’t remember you having to meet with lawyers for the last two.”

“Well, hindsight being twenty-twenty, we probably should have. We didn’t get screwed over, but that’s pure luck because I wouldn’t have known if we were. But this one’s different.”

“How?” Kurt looked at Blaine, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

“I want to both produce and direct this one. And choreograph it. Last time someone else did all that. I wrote the last plays, and on the second one they were nice enough to ask my opinion about a few things, but they didn’t have to and I really had no control. This time, I don’t know, maybe because it was the first play I wrote, I really want to have control. I can see it in my head, and I want it to be exactly like that on stage. The others were nice, but there were things I would have done differently. I’ll always wonder if they would have been better if everything had been done my way.”

“Blaine, Sweetie, your last two plays were great, and they were really successful. The second play you ever had produced was a Broadway hit, and it’s still running.”

“But could it have been better? Could it have been a bigger hit? Could the first one have made it on Broadway? I’ll always wonder. And I have people interested in investing in the next one, and letting me produce and direct. I really want to do this!”

Kurt was happy for him, honestly, he was. Blaine deserved this. But he still had questions. “That’s great, Baby, but I don’t understand what Adam has to do with any of this.”

“Oh, is that what this is about? You were worried about me and Adam?” Blaine was trying to hold back laughter. Kurt nodded, tears in his eyes, failing to see any humor in the situation.

“Well, he’s my assistant choreographer. Essentially, I put him in charge of making sure I don’t have the chorus members running into each other, at least not if they know the steps and are on beat. And he’ll probably be my assistant director, and he’s a pretty good gopher, too. He never forgets my coffee order and he’s never gotten me a sandwich I wouldn’t eat.”

“That’s all?” Kurt sighed in relief. “I just, I don’t know, I guess I’m still a little insecure. You work with all those gorgeous men and sometimes I wonder if I’m still good enough.”

“Baby, you work with just as many gorgeous men, maybe more. We just have to trust each other. And if you’re worried, just tell me. We can talk about it. I’m so in love with you, and I don’t ever want you to doubt that,” Blaine put his arms around Kurt’s waist and kissed him. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Kurt said, turning to the table to take the food back to the kitchen.

“Um, where are you going with my dinner?”

“We need to celebrate!” Kurt told him.

“Don’t you think we should wait for the financing to come through?”

“Did we wait for my line to sell?”

“Kurt, it isn’t even out yet.”

“Exactly. This stuff will all reheat. Decide what you want and we’ll go out. Oh, and for the record, Blaine, anyone could be your gopher. You drink medium drip with a handful of sugar packets on the side, and I’ve yet to see a sandwich you wouldn’t devour, no matter how disgusting it is.”

“My sandwiches aren’t disgusting. At least most of them aren’t.”

“Blaine, Baby, you eat like a bachelor college freshman when I’m not around to watch you. I worry about your diet almost as much as I do my dad’s. I don’t want either of you to keel over on me. Now where do you want to go eat?”

“Chinese.”

“And I rest my case,” Kurt sighed.

“Nice Chinese?” Blaine tried.

Thirty minutes later they were walking through the doors to one of the more upscale Chinese restaurants in Chinatown when they spotted a familiar couple. Brittany waived them over. Kurt blanched as he saw the food in front of Santana. “I know, it’s kind of gross,” Brittany told them, picking at the plate of Moo Goo Gai Pan before her.

“What is that?” Kurt asked, not really certain he wanted to know the answer.

“Cashew chicken over shrimp fried rice and pot stickers with spicy mustard,” Santana said after she swallowed the bite that had been in her mouth. Just then, a waiter arrived with an order of Hunan beef and one of Mu Shu pork. “Hey, baby girl wants what she wants, and right now she’s hungry.”

“So it’s a girl?” Blaine exclaimed. “When are you due exactly?”

Santana nodded proudly before telling him, “Right before Christmas, December twentieth, to be exact. We had planned to go back to Ohio for Christmas, but now it looks like our parents will come here. We didn’t really think that through when we decided to do this when we did.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before being ushered to their own table across the room. Blaine kept stealing glances at the girls, and Kurt had to remind him to focus on the baby he was trying to get financing for, rather than Santana’s. There was no doubt about it: Blaine’s baby fever was back with a vengeance.

* * *

It took a lot of meetings with attorneys, but finally all the contracts and financing were in place for Blaine’s play. Casting had begun, and Kurt began to relax once again. Blaine and Adam were together even more, but Blaine spent most of the time they weren’t together griping about him. “God, I know we’re friends, but Adam’s driving me nuts with casting. I do think the lead in the first musical I produce and direct should have something going for him besides a nice ass. I mean, is it too much to ask for someone who can sing, dance and act? All though right now I think I’d settle for one of the three. And do you remember a girl at NYADA named Therese? I swear, I think he owes her a favor for something, or maybe she’s blackmailing him, I don’t know, but he keeps pushing me to cast her as the leading lady. All I do know is that Rachel would be less of a pain to work with, and I do know what I’m talking about here. I’m just glad she’s in rehearsals for a new show so I don’t have to either hire her or turn her down, because she’s just not right for the part.” Kurt smiled fondly. He did like Adam as a friend, and now that he was irritating Blaine enough that Kurt wasn’t worried Blaine might fall in love with him, he found the entire situation entertaining.

Blaine was still doing his musical, which he had now performed so many times he could do it in his sleep, allowing his mind to focus on the play he was preparing. Kurt had accepted the lead in another musical, and would rehearse for a month before the month of Fashion Weeks began, then return for another two months of rehearsals. The cast recording would be done during the time he was gone, and studio time had been booked for him to record his tracks in London. 

Kurt was also putting the finishing touches on his fashion line, the first produced by the now officially named KHA Designs. All the arrangements had been made, right down to tickets for Blaine to fly to London to celebrate his twenty-fourth birthday in London with Kurt, and then to go to Milan together so they could be together for Valentine’s Day, despite Fashion Week.

Once again, everything seemed to be going well. This time, Kurt felt no sense of foreboding. Both his career and Blaine’s were doing well. Santana’s baby, Amelia, had arrived right on time, with a sense of punctuality that shocked everyone who knew her mothers, and was cheerfully preventing any sleep in the Lopez-Pierce household. Brittany was hired as a choreographer-in-residence for an off-Broadway theatre company, and had picked up jobs working as a choreographer on two Broadway shows, on top of the classes she taught. The club’s business was booming under Santana’s leadership, and neither pregnancy nor a baby had slowed her down. In fact, it was doing so well that she was in the process of securing a lease to open a second club, one that she would shape from the ground up. Both he and Blaine and Santana and Brittany, to the extent that Santana’s pregnancy had permitted, had taken a day or two off at a time to attend a spate of weddings: Tina and Mike had married in Chicago, Mercedes and Sam in Lima, Puck and Lauren in Massachusetts, Nick and Jeff in Hawaii. They had also celebrated, either in person or via long distance, several engagements: Artie and Kitty, Wes and Michelle, Marley and Jake, David and Andrea. They were babysitting Stephen and Carole Ann each Monday afternoon and evening, permitting Finn to attend a study group for a class he struggled with and also to teach an evening music class at the community center. They even took pity on Santana and Brittany and took care of Amelia on the occasional morning or Sunday evening; the original idea was that the two could enjoy time as a couple, without Amelia, but the four adults soon learned sleep was more essential. Kurt didn’t tend to be an optimist, but this time he had decided to just enjoy everyone’s good fortunes for as long as they lasted.

Kurt was too busy to realize Blaine’s research into several areas had picked up. Blaine, on the other hand, wasn’t going to rock the boat until he saw how Kurt’s shows at Fashion Week went, not to mention his own musical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading, and I want to know what you think, so please comment. If you want to know more about something, let me know, because I'll be doing a companion series of one shots (two are already written) under the blanket title "Along the Road." I look forward to hearing from you!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are going to have some big changes in their lives, and the tables are turned just a little bit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who's still reading, thank you so much! Please, please comment and let me know what you're thinking, and if there's anything you'd like to see a one-shot about. I'm going to be putting the first installment of one shots related to this story a little later today. They will all be published under the umbrella title "Along the Road" but each chapter will be a stand-alone one shot, with its own title. They probably will not be in chronological order, but it could happen. The only thing I promise is that I will not put up an installment until we've at least reached the related parts of this story. Again, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER 13

The month of the Fashion Weeks were a blur, but a very successful blur. Kurt walked away with a ridiculous number of orders, which had many more established designers jealous. The fashion magazines, web sites and blogs, led of course by Vogue and Vogue.com, hailed him as the new shining star of the fashion industry. The manufacturer Kurt had contracted with to actually fill the orders turned out high quality work on a timely basis, making his new customers very happy. KHA Designs was officially off the ground.

Kurt’s new musical opened to rave reviews. He was having fun, playing a man who was constantly missing his one true love, his soul-mate, by minutes. It was a comedy of errors, in which the couple finally met and fell in love at the end. After the darkness of his previous show, Kurt was relieved to be playing something so light-hearted, with a happy ending. It made him think of he and Blaine, only the play definitely had less angst than they’d put each other through; on the other hand, they got time together, something the couple in the play never seemed to have. And the best part was that not only did the critics love the show, so did the public. Kurt was basking in the glow when, in early June, he had another reason to celebrate.

Blaine’s show opened, and was equally successful. Originally written during the time he and Kurt were broken up, it was much darker than Kurt’s show, and the ending was uncertain, leaving the audience to decide if the protagonists were able to make their relationship work. Critics and audience members alike debated the ending for hours, often returning time and again to see if there was anything they had missed that would give them a clue. Blaine was even interviewed by a few reporters and asked about how the couple’s story ended. He refused to give them an answer, although at least one reported that she thought they came out well in the end, based on the ring on his finger. 

He had finally left the show he was in to focus on getting his own off the ground, but now that it was going, and soon he wouldn’t have to be in the theater for it every day, he was preparing to audition for something new. He also was starting to write again, thinking about the next show. He had so loved producing and directing that he was looking forward to doing it again, but never even considered doing so with a show he hadn’t written. That, however, was just fine with his investors, who, based on the triumph of his first show, were more than happy to express interest in his next, despite the fact that he had yet to write it.

All things considered, both men’s careers were going well, and that, combined with the lack of time they had to actually spend money, was showing up on the bottom line of their bank account. In September, Blaine decided to finally bring up the matter that had been on his mind as they returned to the apartment after a dinner with friends to celebrate Kurt’s birthday. With Fashion Weeks ongoing, it was one of the few chances they would have to talk.

“So, twenty-six, huh, Old Man?” He teased.

Kurt shouldered him playfully. “Yep. But I can still keep up with you,” he said, running ahead and into the building, taking the stairs two at a time.

“No fair!” Blaine exclaimed, trying to keep up. He could do the stairs two at a time, but it was harder with his shorter legs. Most of the time the two and a half inch height difference didn’t matter, but there were times when it was really annoying. This was one of those times, he thought. Or maybe not, since he was getting a nice view on the way up.

Once they reached the apartment, giggling like a couple of kids, they stumbled into the entryway and made their way to the living room, collapsing on the couch. “Do you realize we’ve lived here for over five years?” He asked. “We’ve been here longer than anyone else in the building. I think the rest of the tenants really do think of us as the old men.”

“Probably,” Kurt admitted. “Almost everyone here is a student, so we do seem pretty old to most of them, although we do have a couple of grad students and at least one career student in the building, and they’re as old if not older than we are.”

“Have you ever given any thought to moving? I mean, we barely fit in here when we moved in, and now we’re bursting at the seams. There’s no way we could have a baby in here, we could never shoehorn one in, and the neighbors got annoyed when we babysat. And now that Stephen and Carole Ann are gone, I do have to admit to a bit of baby fever.” Blaine said, wistfully reminding Kurt that Finn and the kids had moved back to Lima, where he was McKinley’s first official full-time choir director, although he did fill in teaching a few other places since there weren’t enough choir students to keep him busy full time.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold out until thirty,” Kurt laughed. “And you’re right, before we have kids, we’ll have to find a new place. But I’m not sure I’m quite ready for kids, and it’ll be hard to give this place up. I mean, you’re right, it’s a tight fit, but somehow we always make it work, and it will always be special, because it was our first place together. I don’t know if I’m ready to leave. And I don’t even know if we can afford someplace bigger.”

It was Blaine’s turn to laugh. “Do you have any idea how much money we actually have?”

Kurt shook his head.

Blaine pulled out his phone, and pulled up the banking app. Turning the screen to Kurt, he began flipping through their accounts. He smiled as he watched Kurt’s jaw drop. He knew Kurt watched his business accounts, but once they were independent of their parents and working steadily enough to easily support their lifestyle, which consisted mostly of working, he had been happy to let Blaine take over their personal finances.

“And that’s not all. In February, I turn twenty-five, and I have a college degree.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Kurt said drily. “And you’re expecting to somehow come into money at that time?”

“Actually, I am,” Blaine told him. “Trust fund, remember? To get it I had to do two things: graduate from college and turn twenty-five. And I get the remainder of my education fund when I turn twenty-five too.”

“There’s money left? How much? And how much is the trust fund?”

“How much do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I always just guessed it was a few thousand dollars,” Kurt admitted.

Blaine shook his head. Not that he had ever really thought Kurt was after his money, but his lack of curiosity and knowledge of the Anderson family money pretty much drove the fact home. “I got several partial scholarships and grants, and remember me working? All of that defrayed the money I had to take from my college fund, so there’s about fifty thousand left, plus whatever interest it earned in the last two years. The trust fund?” Rather than name another figure, he simply turned to another app and showed Kurt the screen. 

Kurt gasped and blinked several times, thinking he was seeing things. Surely there were too many zeroes. The number on Blaine’s screen showed eight figures. “That’s the principle,” he continued. “The total includes interest, and dividends from some of the investments, since I never drew on it. If necessary I could have drawn on the interest and dividends, but I never had to. And we don’t need it to live on, so I figured we could use it to buy a new place and finance having kids. As it turns out, neither adoption nor having a baby by surrogate are cheap, but we can afford it pretty easily with this.”

“But Blaine, that’s your money. We can’t use all your money on that,” Kurt insisted.

“It’s our money. We’re in this together, Baby, and what else am I going to use it for?” 

“Won’t your parents be angry?”

“First, it’s not their money, it’s mine, well, ours. And second, I’ve already discussed it with them, and they approve.”

“You discussed it without me? And yet you insist it’s our money, our decision.” Kurt’s anger was beginning to simmer.

“It wasn’t intentional. Mom brought it up when I went home for a few days after the play was up and running, when you were going to go but your stand-in got sick. Specifically the way the conversation went was I was ambushed with the fact that Cooper is getting a divorce after less than a year of marriage, based on his infidelity, which could have been disastrous but for the pre-nup my parents insisted on. It went from there to the fact that at this rate Cooper will never give her grandchildren to asking very pointed questions about our plans regarding children. I caved. I told her we were planning to have some, although not right away. She pushed and I pointed out that it would be a more expensive and time consuming process for us than it would be for a straight couple. We aren’t exactly going to pull a Finn and Rachel and get pregnant by accident. And she brought up the trust fund. At which point Dad walked in; apparently he was listening from the next room. He pointed out that we could also use it to buy a place of our own, which led to a long and boring lecture on the benefits of ownership over renting, which I will bore you with the details of later.”

Kurt sighed in relief. That was Blaine’s parents. They meant well, but sometimes they were a bit pushy, and occasionally seemed to think money was the answer to everything. Although, in this case, they weren’t far from wrong. Then, replaying the conversation in his mind, he wondered aloud, “Pre-nup? We don’t have a pre-nup. I don’t remember your parents ever mentioning one.”

Blaine laughed. “First, they like you, and have never worried that you were after the family money. Second, did I mention they like you? I think if we ever split up they’d be more likely to blame me than you and figure anything you got in a divorce you deserved. And finally, while they never suggested we get one, I am my own person. I take their opinions under advisement, and while I value their opinions, I make my own decisions. I trust you and I believe in us, so I would never have agreed to one or asked you for one. Cooper is a different story. He pretty much lets my parents dictate financial matters, he dates girls who are blatant gold-diggers, and Mom and Dad do what they have to do to protect the family money.”

Kurt had returned to trying to wrap his head around the fact that they had money. A lot of money. More money than he’d ever dreamed of having. And now he had no idea what to do. The truth was he did want kids, and with Finn’s departure, he really missed his niece and nephew. Now that Amelia was sleeping through the night, Santana and Brittany were no longer as desperate for babysitting, and he missed having little ones around. And a bigger place, one they owned, was appealing. And in just a few months he could have it all.

Blaine brought him back to earth by asking, “Have you ever thought about what you’d want? Where you’d want to live?”

Kurt was startled. “New York, of course. Why would we move away?”

Blaine laughed. “Well, with kids the suburbs might be nice. Or one of the other boroughs? Or do you want to stay in Manhattan?”

“Manhattan. Definitely. I didn’t really mind Bushwick when I lived there, but I like here so much better. I want our kids to grow up with this. I want them to be around all the people, the art, everything. And we both work here. I don’t want them missing time with us because we have a long commute.”

“Yeah, but we might be able to get a yard if we went to one of the other boroughs or to the suburbs,” Blaine pointed out. “We both grew up with yards.”

He had a point, but Kurt had an answer. “We did, but there are parks all over Manhattan, and they’re bigger than our yards were when we were growing up. We just have to find a place near a good park.”

Blaine smiled. They were making slow progress. “Okay. Near a park. What else is on your wish list?”

Kurt looked out the windows thoughtfully. “Three bedrooms, since we want two kids. I never had to share a room, and neither did you. My room was always my refuge, and I want that for our kids.”

He looked around the apartment and continued. “A bigger kitchen. Two bathrooms would be nice. More storage and closet space. A place to put my desk and your instruments other than our bedroom or the kids’ rooms . . . .”

As he trailed off, Blaine asked, “Look, I don’t get it for another five months, and I know we’re both in shows and I’m trying to write the next play and you have to finish this Fashion Week month and then focus on getting ready for February, but can I start looking? And can we maybe speed up the baby timetable a bit?”

“How much?”

“Maybe trying to have one born late next year or early the year after?”

Kurt suddenly remembered one time when they were babysitting, when he walked into the living room to find Blaine lying on the couch, Carole Ann on his chest, singing her a lullaby. Blinking back tears, he said, “Yeah, that sounds good. And you can scout neighborhoods, too, but not apartments yet. I don’t want to fall in love with a place and then have someone else buy it before we can.”

“Okay. Do you want to have this be the place, and never move again, or will you consider moving again?” Blaine knew Kurt had moved only three times in his life: when his father had remarried, when he moved to New York, and when he moved in with Blaine. On the other hand, that was one more time than he had moved himself, having lived in the same home from the time he was born until he went to college.

“I’m not sure. I don’t like moving, as you’ve noticed. I mean, I lived in the same house from the time I was born until Dad married Carole. So, I’d like it to be a nice place, a place where we can raise our family and stay and never move. But, I’m not sure I’m comfortable spending every cent we have to get that, and things could always change. We could end up moving back to Ohio.” He shivered a little involuntarily. 

Blaine smiled. Now he had something to work with.

* * *

It was Blaine’s birthday, and he lay in a bed in a luxurious London hotel room, Kurt in his arms. This year, his parents and Cooper had flown out to celebrate his birthday with he and Kurt. Kurt had, however, gotten invitations for his parents to several exclusive Fashion Week events, and Cooper was trying his luck at wooing a number of models, many of whom seemed more amused than enthralled. Therefore, they had plenty of time alone to make love, and afterwards, to cuddle, and talk.

At that moment, Blaine was trying to start a conversation, while Kurt was sleepily debating with himself whether to just cuddle and go to sleep or to see if they were up for one more round of love making. “So, have you given any thought to which one of us should go first? Or do you want to both do it?”

“Hmm?” Kurt was resting his head on Blaine’s chest, dropping occasional kisses across it, lazily trailing his hand along Blaine’s body. He had no idea what Blaine was talking about.

“Which one of us should be the biological father of the first baby? Or we could have them split the donor eggs into two groups. We each donate and they fertilize one group of eggs with my sperm, one with yours, and implant one embryo from each group.”

Kurt looked up at Blaine’s face. “Now? You want to talk about this now?”

“Mmm-hmm. Why not? We just made love, and if we were a hetero couple that’s what we’d be doing when we wanted to have a baby.”

Kurt sighed. Apparently they were actually going to have this conversation now. “Okay. Um, I don’t think I like the idea where we both go at the same time, so to speak. We wouldn’t really know without testing which of us was the biological father, and if we did it twice, we could end up with one of us fathering both kids, which would be fine if one of us couldn’t for some reason, but as long as we both can, which is the case as far as we know, I’d rather stick to the original plan.”

“Which brings us back to the original question: which of us should go first?”

They’d discussed a little of the procedure. They would use an egg donor and a gestational surrogate. One of them would donate semen to fertilize the donor eggs, and a couple of the best looking embryos would be implanted in the surrogate. Kurt was okay with all of it in principle, but the idea of actually handing off a container of his semen to some medical technician made him vaguely uncomfortable. He knew he’d do it if he had to, and he would have to eventually if they carried through with the current plan, but he didn’t have to go first. He knew Blaine would be okay with this, so he didn’t really go into detail about why he wanted Blaine to do it first. Instead, he said, “You go first. I want to make sure I have a little Blaine running around.” It wasn’t a lie; it just wasn’t the whole reason.

Blaine laughed. “Are you sure? Maybe you should talk to Mom and Cooper. Apparently I was something of a hellion when I was little.”

Kurt smiled. “Really? Because I just can’t picture that. Anyway, why did you want to talk about this now?”

Blaine tensed a little. This was the part Kurt had been putting off since his birthday, so Blaine had taken the initiative. “Because, as soon as you get back, we have appointments. We’ll be meeting with an attorney who specializes in helping gay couples have children, and we’ll have a series of meetings with counselors and doctors at a fertility clinic that is amenable to helping gay couples. And we need to know which of us is going first because it will help us pick egg donors. I was thinking we’d pick one with your physical characteristics when I’m going to be the biological father, and one that has more of my features when it’s going to be you.”

“Okay,” Kurt whispered.

“Really? You’re not mad?”

“No. I’m not. I want a family. I want kids, and some days I think I’m ready, but other days I feel like I’m barely more than a kid myself. So I’ve been procrastinating, even though I know you’re ready and I know you’ll be a great dad.” He looked at Blaine’s chest, away from his face, before whispering softly, “But what if I’m not good enough?”

Blaine placed a finger under his chin, tilting his head gently so he could look into Kurt’s eyes. “Listen to me. You will be a wonderful father. How could you not? You had the world’s best example.”

Kurt grinned. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

* * *

Once Kurt arrived home from Paris, the next few days were a whirlwind. He was ready to resume his role in the musical, he was buried in orders, his days were dictated by the appointments Blaine had set up, and he finally admitted he needed a work space of his own and help with KHA designs, so he began interviewing for an office manager and an assistant designer, while talking to a real estate agent about studio space. He hardly knew if he was coming or going.

He and Blaine had passed all of the medical and psychological testing at the clinic, and talked to the attorney about the necessary paperwork so they would both be listed as the legal parents of their child. Now they were in one of the clinic’s conference rooms, Kurt looking for potential surrogates while Blaine looked through books of possible egg donors. Suddenly, Blaine said, “Kurt, Baby, come here. I think I found her.”

Kurt pushed his chair a little closer to Blaine’s and leaned in. Many of the egg donors didn’t include pictures, just listing physical characteristics, but this one had two photos, a head shot and a full length portrait showing an elegant young woman in a tutu. The head shot showed an attractive girl with high cheekbones, a long, aristocratic nose, and slightly pointed chin; chestnut brown hair was swept back from her forehead, and she stared into the camera with a haughty expression in her blue eyes. “She could be my sister,” Kurt said in amazement. 

“Yeah,” Blaine breathed. “Listen. She’s twenty-eight, graduated second in her class in high school, went to study at the American Ballet Theater, and she’s now one of their principal dancers. She’s specifically interested in being an egg donor for a gay couple because her brother and two of her best friends are gay. She says she can’t be a surrogate because of her career, but is willing to be an egg donor. And she’s tall – five foot seven.”

“Hmm. Sounds a little bit like Rachel with the career thing; do we want that?”

“I don’t see Rachel volunteering to go through hormone treatments and donate her eggs to help a gay couple, or anyone else for that matter, have a baby.”

“True. What about the height? She’s almost as tall as you.”

“Any you’re taller. I don’t mind being short, but if we could actually combine our DNA there’s a chance that our kids might get lucky and get a bit of height from you. I don’t see any reason not to give them that advantage this way if we can. She’s got long legs and a dancer’s body like you. And she’s smart and she looks so much like you . . . .” Blaine trailed off, giving Kurt a hopeful look.

Kurt smiled and leaned in to give Blaine a quick kiss. “Okay. We have an egg donor. Now come over here and help me find a surrogate who doesn’t sound like a psycho.”

Several hours later, they had finally selected a surrogate, and left the clinic, leaving it to the staff to contact the women in question and set up the schedule that would dictate the next few months of their lives.

* * *

After setting things in motion at the clinic, it was time to focus on finding a new place to live. They looked at and rejected several places for various reasons. They didn’t like the neighborhood, it was too noisy, too far from parks, too far from the subway, too small. 

Sitting in a small coffee shop, sifting through another stack of listings sent to them by their real estate agent, Blaine asked, “What would you think of looking at places with more bedrooms? The real estate agent said we might find more property that meets our other requirements if we do that, and I know it makes you nervous, but we can afford it.”

Kurt looked up. “First, I really don’t want to spend your whole trust fund on a new apartment. And second, do you want your mother to move in with us the second we have a child? Because if there’s room, it will happen. And I love your mother, I really do, but I don’t want to live with her, at least not right now. If we need to take care of our parents someday, so be it, but we aren’t there yet. And the only reason Carole won’t be arm-wrestling her for the space is that she has Finn’s kids in Ohio. Otherwise we’d have them both.”

“Okay. I do have to admit you might be right about that.”

The two men continued to look through separate stacks for a while before Kurt noticed that Blaine was practically vibrating. “Sweetheart, spill.”

“What?” Blaine looked at Kurt and quickly put a listing at the bottom of the stack.

“Either you’ve had way too much coffee, and keep in mind that I’ve seen you drink way more than you’ve had with no noticeable effect, or you’re excited. Want to clue me in?”

“Okay. There’s a property I really want to look at. But I don’t want to show it to you on paper because I’m afraid you’ll veto it right off the bat.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Will you just trust me a little? Let me call, see if it’s still on the market, and set up an appointment if it is. After we see it, you can argue with me, but I really want to at least look at it, and I really, really want you to go into it with an open mind.”

Kurt looked at him for a moment, then sighed and said, “Okay.”

Blaine grinned and bounced away from the table to call the real estate agent. Back at the table a few moments later, his phone rang and he answered. A minute later Kurt heard him say, “Okay, great. Yes, we’ll be there.” He grabbed Kurt’s hand and said, “Come, on. We have to go, otherwise we won’t have time to look at this place before we have to be back at work.”

Kurt tried to question him as Blaine hailed a cab. “What? Where is this place? Is it even in Manhattan?”

“Open mind, Kurt, open mind,” was all Blaine would say.

* * *

Once in the cab, Blaine handed the driver a slip of paper on which he’d hastily scrawled an address. 

Kurt had given up on trying to get information, but was already having trouble with his promise to keep an open mind. If there wasn’t something horrible about this place, why wouldn’t Blaine tell him about it? When the cab stopped, Kurt looked around. They were in front of an older building on Park Avenue, just a couple of blocks from Central Park. Blaine paid the cabbie and they got out, as Kurt started to protest. “We can’t afford this!”

Blaine sighed. “Yes, Baby, we can. You don’t even know how much it is and you promised me you’d keep an open mind.”

The real estate agent met them in the lobby, and took them up to the sixth floor in an old, restored elevator. As she unlocked the door, she said, I’ll just stay in the entry and let you look around, okay?”

They walked into a long gallery that ran nearly the length of the apartment. On one side a doorway lead to a hallway with three large bedrooms, one noticeably larger than the others. All three had en suite bathrooms and walk-in closets, with the largest having a double vanity and separate shower, as well as the largest closet. After walking through the bedrooms, they crossed the gallery to find formal living and dining rooms, a large eat-in kitchen with doors concealing a pantry and space for a washer and dryer, an informal living space which could be another living room or dining room or a game room open to the kitchen, a library, and a tiny bedroom with a small closet and a tiny bathroom. The floors were hardwoods, but better maintained than in the building where they currently lived. All of the appliances were new and top of the line, and there was marble in the kitchen and the bathrooms. There were two wood-burning fireplaces, one in the formal living room and one in the master bedroom.

It would be perfect, and Blaine knew it. He just had to get Kurt to go for it. He could see Kurt looking, casting longing looks at the closets, the kitchen with its storage and counter space, assessing what it would take to truly make it theirs, but he was also reserved; Blaine knew it was a defense mechanism to keep himself from getting too excited about something he couldn’t have. “Look, Honey, there’s bedrooms for each child we want, and another that we could use as a guest room, but it’s small enough that my mom won’t stay too long.”

“Ha. We could barely put a twin bed in there. We are not going to ask your mom to stay there.”

“Fair enough. What I was really thinking was that I could use the library as a music room for me, and we could both practice dancing some in the informal space, work out choreography, that sort of thing if we push the furniture out of the way – “

“We don’t even have furniture to push out of the way at this point,” Kurt pointed out.

“True. And the small bedroom you could use as a studio. We could put your desk and sewing machine in there, maybe a dressmaker’s form, and you could keep fabric in the closet . . . .”

“How much?”

“Not too much,”

“Blaine, how much?”

“It’s listed at eight million, but that’s just the listing. We can probably get it for less.”

“I don’t like the color of the walls,” Kurt said, walking out.

“We can paint it any color you want!” Blaine yelled after him.

* * *

It took a few days, but Blaine finally got Kurt to come around. The thing that finally persuaded him was the fact they could use the accumulated interest and dividends as a down payment without using the trust principle, and get a mortgage for the balance that was within their means using only the income they actively earned. Once Kurt agreed, it took another several days to negotiate the price, which ultimately came down to seven and a half million. They were about to be homeowners. 

They closed a little less than a month later. Closing was nerve wracking for them both. Kurt had never believed he would spend that much money on anything, and the idea of signing his name, promising to pay seven figures for an apartment, had him on the verge of hyperventilating. Blaine was just worried that Kurt would walk out or have a panic attack or just refuse to sign the paperwork. After an hour sitting with the title agents, having documents explained to them, retaining nothing but the fact that the apartment was soon to be theirs and the amounts and payments to be made, they walked out, keys in hand.

As they left the title company, Kurt muttered, “I wasn’t kidding. I really don’t like the wall color. It doesn’t go with the granite and even if it did I don’t like it.”

“I wasn’t kidding either. Pick paint. Call a contractor. We’ll change the color. Anything you like.”

“I’m not about to pay someone to paint when I can do it myself, not after what we just agreed to pay,” Kurt insisted.

“Fine,” Blaine sighed. “Now we know what to do with our Sunday evenings and Mondays.”

* * *

Blaine received an unwanted crash course in interior house painting from his exacting husband, but with help from Santana and other friends, the colors in the apartment soon suited Kurt, and he began to relax and plan how he would decorate it. Unwilling to spend money he didn’t have to, they moved with their current furniture and Kurt took his time finding unique pieces that suited his style and the budget he had enforced for himself. Blaine was just happy to have their new home, with plenty of room for the family they had planned.

* * *

Their surrogate, Macy, was willing to let them come to most of her doctor’s appointments, so they found themselves squeezing each other’s hands nervously in late May while sitting in the waiting room at the clinic. Macy just laughed at them. She was married and had two children of her own, and this was her second time to be a surrogate. They had been near panic a few weeks earlier when the clinic staff called to tell them Macy’s beta numbers were “a little on the high side,” until it was explained to them that it was no cause to worry and didn’t, in all probability, mean anything bad. They had backed down from panic to mere worry at that point, despite all assurances.

Macy was called back first, and a few moments later, after she had been prepped for the ultrasound, Kurt and Blaine were called back. The tech directed their attention to a monitor, and pointed. “There’s your baby,” she said. Kurt pointed, open mouthed, at a fluttering movement on the screen. “That’s its heartbeat, and it’s perfect,” she continued, then made a small movement with her wand, and everything shifted. “And there’s the other one, and everything looks good there too.”

“What?” Kurt and Blaine chorused.

Macy grinned. “They told you my beta numbers were high. They’re higher with multiples. At least, they should be. And they were right where they should be for twins.”

“You knew?” Blaine asked in amazement.

“For sure? No. Not until now. But I had a pretty good idea.”

“Your due date is December twenty-third, so you should have Christmas babies,” the tech told them.

A few moments later, they left Macy to get dressed, still too stunned to really process the news.

Later that night, they lay in bed, Kurt’s head on Blaine’s chest as though he needed to hear his heartbeat in order to stay grounded. “Twins,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Blaine replied, laughing a little. “Wow.”

Kurt rose from the bed, almost as if sleepwalking, and went to the pale blue room he’d planned to make the nursery. “I can put one crib there, and the other there,” he said to himself, pointing to places in the room. He didn’t notice that Blaine had trailed after him.

“Or they could share a crib. Jeff’s a twin, and he said he and his sister slept in the same crib until they moved to a bed, and then shared a bed almost until kindergarten. They stayed in the same room until midway through elementary school, when their parents decided it wasn’t proper for a boy and a girl to continue to share a room, given their age. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the space, they just always did better when they were close to each other. Jeff said when either one was sad or upset or had a bad dream they would sneak over to the other’s room to sleep up until they went to Dalton and Crawford Country Day respectively, where they lived in the dorms. He told me the first time he really got upset at Dalton, he spent all afternoon trying to figure out how to get into her dorm.”

Kurt laughed at the thought. “Did he figure it out?”

Blaine shook his head. “No. His roommate caught him trying to sneak out, and got him to talk about what was going on. Turns out what he was upset about was that even though Dalton has a no-bullying policy, he was afraid of people’s reactions when they found out he was gay, because he had kind of a bad experience in middle school, although not as bad in some ways as what you and I experienced. When he first came out then, he wasn’t bullied per se, more shunned. No one did anything physical or even said anything to him, it was as though he ceased to exist. No one talked to him, no one talked about him, no one would work with him, although they didn’t refuse to work with him either, they just didn’t – if he was assigned to work in a pair or in a group, the others would complete it without his input, as if he’d never been there. He was completely isolated. If it hadn’t been for his sister, I’m not sure he would have made it, and the treatment bled over to her some too, and I know he felt guilty about that. So he didn’t come out for a few months at Dalton, but then he got a crush on someone. He didn’t even know for sure if the guy was gay; he wanted to find out, but couldn’t figure out how without coming clean about being gay himself.”

“Oh, my God. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for him. How did his roommate react?”

“Well, the roommate, who was also the subject of the crush, was Nick, and you know how that turned out. He was out, but at Dalton it’s such a nonissue no one ever thought to tell Jeff that Nick was gay, including Nick. Since Jeff never said anything, Nick assumed he was straight. The crush was mutual, but Nick had never acted on it because he didn’t think Jeff was gay. They started dating then, which was funny because they’d dressed in front of each other since they were assigned to the same room, but after that they both got shy and started dressing in the bathroom or in friends’ rooms; they’d both strip in front of me, or Wes, or David, but not in front of each other. They became best friends as well as boyfriends, broke up but stayed best friends, saw other people, and then got back together the summer before junior year. They’ve been together ever since.”

“I wish we could have done that. I wasn’t sure we were even friends most of the time we were broken up, much less best friends.”

“Yeah, I know. I would have liked that, but we’re best friends now, and that’s what matters. Maybe we needed the time apart. If we’d stayed best friends, things might have happened differently, and we might not be together now.”

“They managed.”

“Kurt, Nick and Jeff are different people. We are who we are, and they’re who they are. No one’s the same. Everyone reacts differently.”

“Yeah,” Kurt sighed, too tired to pursue the debate. “Back to the crib question. How about we get two, but put them together in one until it seems right to separate them? After we put them in two, we can still put one the other’s crib if it seems like they need it.”

“Sounds good, Baby. Now can we go back to bed and figure out the rest of the twin logistics tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said through a yawn, allowing Blaine to take his hand and lead him back to bed.

* * *

Three months later, they sat in another waiting room, waiting for another ultrasound. In response to everyone’s questions about what they wanted, they both had the same answer: healthy babies. They had debated not finding out if they were having boys, girls, or one of each, but Kurt really didn’t like surprises, and Santana had threatened them, insisting she had to know in order to throw them a shower, because, “Showers where everything is mint green or yellow are just sad.”

“What do you think they’ll be?” Asked Macy.

“Maybe one of each?” Blaine answered.

“I have my suspicions, but I’m not saying until we know,” Kurt replied.

Half an hour later, the two men stared at the screen in awe. “Did you want to know the sex of the babies?” The tech asked. Both nodded eagerly. “Well,” she said, moving her wand around low on Macy’s abdomen, “Baby A is a healthy little boy.” She moved the wand higher up and the other baby appeared. “And let’s see, Baby B is, oh, come on, cooperate and show me, also healthy and yes, also a boy!”

Macy smiled. “Two boys,” Blaine murmured in wonder.

“Boys,” Kurt repeated, trying and then failing miserably at stopping his peals of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Blaine asked.

Trying to talk through the laughing, Kurt managed, “Your, your mother . . .” before losing his composure again.

“Oh, my God! My mother did NOT bring up that whole Anderson men can’t father girls thing again, did she?” Blaine said, burying his head in his hands. In response to Kurt’s nod, he demanded, “When?”

Finally managing to calm his laughter, Kurt said, “When we first met to plan the wedding, when she didn’t want you to come. She told me I should father the children, or we should adopt.”

Blaine was blushing all the way to his ears. “And you married me anyway? Even though my mom’s crazy?”

“Of course I did, Sweetheart. I love you. And I don’t know if she’s crazy, but so far I’d have to say she’s right.”

That evening, they called to tell family and friends the news. Everyone had been told they were expecting twins three months ago, but now they would know there were soon to be two Hummel-Anderson boys joining the household.

When they reached Blaine’s parents, they put them on speaker, and Blaine’s parents did the same, so they could both tell them the news together. “Mom, Dad, we went to the doctor today with the surrogate. Both babies are healthy, and in a few months you’re going to have two grandsons!” Blaine announced.

“Congratulations!” His father said.

“Kurt, Blaine went first, didn’t he?” His mother asked.

“Yes,” Kurt answered, dissolving into giggles again.

“Well, congratulations, Darlings, and Kurt, it’s your turn next,” she said.

* * *

That night, as they lounged in bed, Blaine asked, “Is that why you painted the room blue?”

“Blue works for girls, too,” Kurt attempted to defend himself.

“Kurt . . . .”

“Yes.”

* * *

They made it through the September Fashion Weeks, and Kurt’s twenty seventh birthday. As soon as they got through those, Kurt threw himself into decorating the nursery. Blaine did as he was told, tried to keep Kurt from stressing out, and when all else failed, hid in the library to write. In mid-October, Santana and Brittany threw them a baby shower, which, over Kurt’s protests, was held in Santana’s first club.

“Santana, I don’t want our baby shower to be held in a gay bar!”

“Calm down, Porcelain, what better place to hold a baby shower for a couple of gay guys, hosted by a couple of lesbians? Well, okay, one lesbian and one bi-sexual. But anyway, more to the point, the club is closed Sunday mornings, so it’s not like there will be anyone there who isn’t invited, it’s a cheap venue since I already own it, everyone who works there loves you, so everyone’s staying late the night before to clean and decorate, and we’re catering it, so it won’t be bar food. Why are you complaining?”

When it came right down to it, Kurt had to admit the shower was lovely. If he didn’t know the club was a gay bar, he would have thought it was simply a nice restaurant Santana had rented out for the event. Nearly everyone from both New Directions and the Warblers came, as well as their friends from their theater, fashion and music circles. Even Cooper made the trip, joking about how Blaine always had to out-do him now that they were adults, getting married first, and having a child first, and twins at that.

A few friends, however, were missed. Artie hadn’t made it, but Kitty had, bringing the gift along with Artie’s regrets; he was directing his first feature in which he was the lead director rather than an assistant, and unusually rainy weather in the Los Angeles area had put him behind schedule, so he couldn’t break away. Puck explained that Lauren really wasn’t up to attending a baby shower, as they had recently discovered they could not have a baby of their own; although they were looking into adoption, it was still a tender subject. Kurt and Blaine sympathized with both situations, calling Artie to ask if they needed to choreograph a “no-rain” dance, and telling Puck that if he and Lauren, together or separately, ever wanted or needed to talk about it, they would be more than willing to listen. 

On the other hand, a few of the attendees caused stress and had to be carefully kept apart. Tina and Mike both came, but separately; they were in the process of getting a divorce. For the most part, however, they avoided each other, and were cool but civil when they did encounter one another. The same could not be said for Rachel, who was livid when she saw that Finn and Quinn were attending together, Quinn sporting an engagement ring. Although everyone else was happy for them, Santana had to threaten Rachel to avoid a confrontation between she and Quinn, especially when Rachel overheard her discussing the children; it was clear that Quinn had become a mother to them. 

It was also a time to share baby news with other couples. Brittany was now expecting, a daughter, due in late February, and Mercedes and Sam were expecting their first child in May. Mercedes was actually a bit annoyed at Sam for letting the news slip so early, but he was so worried about her that when someone commented that they thought she had lost weight he began to talk about morning sickness, and the cat was out of the bag. Everyone joked that since Brittany was expecting a girl, if Mercedes was too then Kurt and Blaine’s boys would have girlfriends ready from birth. Blaine and Kurt were just thrilled for their friends and their growing families.

In the end, everyone enjoyed the event. Santana lamented the fact that since neither of the couple being “showered” was actually pregnant, she had been forced to forego all the games where people try to guess the girth of the mother-to-be. She suggested a lewd alternative, but was shut down by a bitch glare from one of the fathers-to-be. They played silly games, tried unsuccessfully to get Kurt and Blaine to tell them the names they had selected, ate lunch and a cake that was entirely too rich, and opened more presents than the prospective parents had realized were even possible. Santana, Brittany, Finn and Quinn, along with a few other friends who had children, offered opinions on how well various things worked or didn’t work, and shared parenting tips. Kurt and Blaine weren’t even sure what half the stuff they got was for; they left with their heads spinning and their arms full.

After buying the apartment, which came with a garage space, they had leased another space in the same building and brought Blaine’s car, an Audi that he’d had since he was sixteen, up from Ohio. They’d also purchased a new Navigator to replace the one Kurt sold when he moved to New York. They liked having the option of cars, even though they rarely drove them to get around the city due to traffic and parking issues. However, at Santana’s insistence, they’d brought both to the shower. Finn and Quinn had driven in, leaving the kids with friends, and it took Finn’s SUV, both of their cars, and Santana and Brittany in separate taxis to get everything back to the apartment.

Once everything was up to the apartment, everyone left, Santana and Brittany to go home, Finn and Quinn to explore the city and enjoy a child-free day before heading back home the next morning. Kurt and Blaine had both taken the day off, giving their stand-ins a shot, so Kurt immediately began to organize and put away items while Blaine tried to help without getting in the way. Kurt took the tags off the clothes and started a load of them in the washer with gentle soap, then handed Blaine a list and a stack of cards. “This is half the list of presents. Start writing thank-you notes,” he instructed as he settled onto the couch with his own list and stack of cards. 

A couple of hours later, after he had moved the clothes to the dryer and started a new load, the dryer buzzed. “Let’s take a break and fold the clothes so we can put them away,” he said. “My hand’s starting to cramp anyway.”

They were sitting on the floor, placing piles of folded clothes on the couch, when suddenly Blaine said, “Oh, my God, Kurt, we can’t do this.” 

“Fold baby clothes? I think we’re doing it, and you are not getting out of doing your share,” Kurt replied.

“No. We can’t have a baby.”

“We aren’t. We’re having two. Because you’re an over-achiever.”

“Kurt, look at this,” Blaine said, holding up a newborn-size onesie. He looked like he was about to cry, and was more nervous than Kurt could ever remember seeing him. “We’ve never, not either one of us, even had a dog or cat. We’ve never even had a fish. How are we supposed to take care of something this tiny?”

“Blaine, Baby, we can do this. We’re going to have more help and advice than we want, in all probability. Your mom may move in and never move out. And as for how tiny they’re going to be, they grow. Fast. Remember how fast Stephen got big? And Carole Ann? And I’m pretty sure that Amelia is going to manage one of Santana’s clubs within the next six months, based on her attitude; she’s a little flat-chested version of her mother. She’s going to be the only kid in kindergarten, well, at least the only non-show-business kid, with a résumé.”

“I just don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to screw a kid up.”

“Sweetheart, we’re going to screw up. We’re going to do stuff wrong. All parents do, even my dad, and he’s Superparent. And sometimes, our kids are going to hate us, which according to my dad is a definite sign we’re doing something right. And in the end, the kids will turn out okay. And if they don’t they’ll milk us dry to pay for their therapy so someone can tell them it’s all our fault. Okay?”

By this time Blaine was giggling. “Okay.”

“Good. Now fold.” Kurt said with a smile as he kissed Blaine’s cheek.

* * *

It was Blaine’s turn to reassure Kurt that everything would be okay, and that they could, in fact, go to Finn and Quinn’s wedding in Ohio a few weeks later. Kurt insisted on calling Macy so often she threatened to stop picking up. The last time her husband picked up, telling them to enjoy being child-free while they could, and that the only thing their boys seemed to be doing was making their surrogate hungry. After that Kurt stopped calling, relying on Blaine for reassurance that if they heard nothing, everything was fine.

The small wedding was quite sweet, and Kurt once again served as best man. He’d tried to avoid the duty by pointing out that it hadn’t worked out so well the last time, but Quinn insisted she wanted him as much as Finn, and in the end, he didn’t want to upset her; quite frankly, he was still a little scared of her when she was angry. Stephen was again cast as the ring bearer, and this time Carole Ann actually got to walk down the aisle scattering petals as the flower girl. Both were thrilled that “Mommy” was marrying their Daddy. They stayed for the reception, so Kurt could tell embarrassing stories about Finn the way Finn had about him; by the end, Kurt decided he was ahead, thanking God that when Finn decided to embarrass himself it usually ended up being done publicly and in grand fashion, while most of his most embarrassing moments were fairly private. After sending the happy couple off on their honeymoon, a week in Florida, they helped Burt and Carole pack up a week’s worth of things for the kids, temporarily moving them from Finn and Quinn’s new house to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. After that, Burt drove the prospective parents, both of whom were now antsy, back to the airport.

* * *

Kurt put his foot down about Thanksgiving, refusing to leave town less than a month before the babies were due. They celebrated with Santana and Brittany, who was now eating food combinations that put Santana’s Chinese food mix-and-match to shame. It was fun to have Amelia running around the apartment, reminding them what life would be like in a few short years. Even though they were not with their actual families, they realized they had built a second family there in New York, and when with one, they would always miss the other.

A few days later, the phone rang at two in the morning. “Who is it and why are you calling?” Kurt groused.

“It’s Macy. You two might want to head in to the hospital. Looks like today’s the day.”

“What? No! It’s too early,” he cried, turning to shake his husband, “Blaine, wake up! It’s Macy, she’s in labor.”

“What?” Blaine asked, still trying to wake up enough to make sense of the situation.

“Twins tend to cook a bit faster than singletons; they’re often born a little early. But it’s the second, that’s thirty-seven weeks, which is considered full term, even for singletons. Anyway, I’m on my way, I’ll see you when you get there.”

Kurt hung up, still a bit in shock. Turning to Blaine, he said, “Macy’s having the babies now. We have to go to the hospital.”

Blaine was up in a flash, pulling on pants and grabbing the first shirt he could find. Kurt dressed without thinking about how he looked for the first time since his father was hospitalized, for a much happier reason this time. Blaine called for a taxi, knowing at that time of night it would take longer to find one on the street. They called and left messages at their respective theaters on the way, letting them know to call the stand-ins.

Once at the hospital, they ran up to labor and delivery. They were directed to Macy’s room, where her husband was coaching her through a contraction. She was cussing a blue streak, causing Kurt’s eyes to widen. “You’re doing great, Baby,” her husband encouraged.

After the contraction was over, she smiled at Kurt and Blaine. “It’s going pretty fast,” she told them. Blaine nodded, looking a little scared. 

Since her husband was coaching her, Kurt and Blaine felt a bit out of place, but Macy told them that since they were their babies, they had every right to be there, and should be there. As time wore on, and her contractions grew stronger, both men were surprised by Macy’s vocabulary, causing her husband to laugh and assure them that this was perfectly normal for her during labor. Blaine was beginning to look a bit green and was starting to sweat within a couple of hours. Kurt had been with Rachel longer during her labor, and seemed less surprised by the intensity of the contractions than Blaine was. Macy had already told them she did not intend to use pain medication, and had not used it during her previous labors. By dawn, Blaine was ready to beg her to take something, anything. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. Kurt was clearly much more able to handle this than he was.

Late that afternoon, a midwife came in to check Macy for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Congratulations. You’re ready to start pushing. Your friends should probably leave now, let you and your husband and babies have some family time.”

Clearly the midwife was not up to speed on the situation, but Macy was quick to correct her. “These are the fathers. I’m a surrogate. The guy over there wondering if he can get away with trying to find a football game is my husband, and he’s going to give up on sports for a moment and help, so Kurt and Blaine can be daddies in a little while, but they’re staying to watch their sons’ birth, and they’ll cut the cords.” Kurt and Blaine were suddenly staring at her; the fact that they were to cut the cord was news to them. She looked at them and laughed.

An hour later, Kurt and Blaine watched in awe as their first son’s head appeared, followed quickly by his shoulders. The midwife handed the baby to Blaine and clamped off the cord, then Kurt cut it between the clamps with shaking hands. “Hey, Patrick,” Kurt whispered, stroking the downy head covered in what seemed to be dark blonde hair, curly like Blaine’s. A nurse soon came to take the baby and assess him, while Macy began to push again. Another forty-five minutes passed before Kurt was handed the second baby, and Blaine took his place cutting the cord. “Hi, Ian,” he greeted his second son, who seemed to have straight hair the same dark brown shade as Blaine’s was. Blaine got a moment to kiss him before a second nurse whisked the baby away. Both men had tears streaming down their faces as they turned to Macy, thanking her profusely.

After what seemed like an eternity the two nurses and a doctor finished looking at the boys, who were protesting the examinations with seemingly very healthy lungs. “Well, they look great,” the doctor told them. “We want to keep them a couple of days, because they’re a little on the small side, but if they do well during that time, you can take them home the day after tomorrow.”

Macy was also staying two days, and offered to let the babies stay in the room if Kurt and Blaine were comfortable with that, and in the nursery otherwise. Hospital policy stated that for the babies to be in the room there had to be an adult awake in the room. Kurt and Blaine quickly worked out a schedule to take turns sleeping on the couch so one would be awake until they could take the boys home. 

They needed to call their parents and friends. Both wanted to be the first to tell the news, but neither wanted to leave the babies. Macy was trying to sleep, and they didn’t want to disturb her, so they would need to step outside to call. Finally Blaine sent Kurt out to call his parents. 

“Dad?” He said when Burt picked up the call.

“Yeah, Kiddo. What’s up?”

“Dad, the babies are here. They were born today. You have two beautiful new grandsons.”

“They’re early, aren’t they? Are they okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, they’re perfect. Patrick Ryan Hummel-Anderson is the oldest, and he weighed five pounds, seven ounces. Ian Thomas is forty-eight minutes younger, and he weighs five pounds, four and a half ounces. Because they were a little early and a little small, the doctors want to keep them here a couple of days, but if everything goes well we’ll be home the day after tomorrow.”

“Just a minute son,” he said, “Carole, is that you? The babies came. They’ll be home the day after tomorrow. Call Finn and Quinn and then get on the computer to book the flight.”

Kurt heard a small squeal in the background, then Carole was on the phone saying, “Congratulations, Honey. I can’t wait to see them. Do Blaine’s parents know?”

“No, we called you first.”

“Okay, well I’m going to let you go so Blaine can call his folks.” The call was disconnected. He didn’t get to say goodbye to his dad, but it was okay because he was so excited about his new sons, and he knew his dad would be there if at all possible within the next few days.

Kurt went back into the room, and they traded places. Blaine called his parents, and as he told his dad the news, he heard the word “Congratulations,” followed by an ear-splitting shriek.

“Mom figured it out?”

“I think that’s safe to say, Son.”

“Dad, could you call Cooper? I want him to know, but I also want to get back into the room with the boys.”

“Sure, son. Go take care of your boys. All three of them.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Blaine laughed.

He reentered the room to find Kurt lying on the couch, one baby tucked into the crook of his arm, the other asleep on his chest. He looked barely more awake than the babies. Blaine crossed the room and gave each of them a kiss, telling Kurt, “Sleep, Baby. Santana told me we should always sleep when they do if we can. I’ll take the first shift awake.”

“Mmm,” Kurt mumbled, too tired to argue that he was supposed to take the first shift staying awake.

Blaine knew he should leave to call anyone else, but someone in the room needed to stay awake, and he was terrified of not letting Santana know as soon as possible, so he called her, speaking in a stage whisper, “Santana? It’s Blaine.”

“I know, Hobbit. Caller I.D., remember?”

“Right. The surrogate went into labor in the middle of the night, and the babies were born a little while ago.”

“That’s early, right? Are they . . . ?” She trailed off, not wanting to broach the possibility that something might be wrong with Kurt and Blaine’s boys. She was getting ready to go to work, and glanced over guiltily at her own perfect, healthy little girl, who was trying on her jewelry and makeup.

She signed with relief when Blaine said, “They’re fine. A little small, but they’re only three weeks early, which is apparently okay most of the time.”

“Is there anything you need? Wait, have either of you eaten today?”

Blaine had to stop and think. “Um, I’m not sure. I don’t really remember. Maybe?”

“Room number?” She asked. He told her, and she continued, “Okay, let me call my manager and let her know I’m going to be a little late, so she’ll have to put on her big girl panties and get ready to open without me. I’ll pick something up and be there in a few. I want you both to eat. You have to sleep when the babies sleep –“

Blaine interrupted, “I know, you’ve told us both.”

“And remember to eat. Even if you try to sleep when they do, you’re going to be so sleep deprived that you forget, but you have to try to remember. This is day one, and you’ve both already forgotten. Not a good start, but don’t worry; Auntie Tana is coming to the rescue.”

“Thank you, Santana,” he said gratefully. “I’ll see you soon.” They said goodbye and hung up. After that, he called Adam to tell him the news and give him instructions since they were in rehearsals. He thought about calling other friends, but decided it could wait. They were closest to Santana and Brittany now, followed by Adam and his boyfriend; everyone else could find out in due time. The only one who would be offended would be Rachel. She’d be offended she wasn’t called first, probably believing she should have been told before even their parents. She still saw herself as Kurt’s best friend and sister-in-law, even though the stunt when she was carrying Carole Ann had pretty effectively ended both those relationships, and things were strained between them at best now.

Santana arrived nearly an hour later, bearing two chicken Caesar salads, garlic bread that was a little cold, and a meatball sub. “Here. Eat the sandwich, we’ll dispose of the evidence, and then wake up sleeping beauty.”

Blaine laughed. “You don’t think he’ll smell it on my breath?”

“Don’t doubt me. I had them make the garlic bread with extra garlic. The head chef at this restaurant loves my club, and he owes me one. Don’t ask why. All you need to know is that you’ll be able to repel vampires from ten feet away and Kurt won’t smell the sub.”

Blaine ate gratefully while Santana admired the sleeping babies and ran her hand fondly through Kurt’s sleep mussed hair. After he finished the sandwich and half a piece of very garlicky garlic bread, Blaine gently shook his shoulder. “Baby, wake up. Santana’s here, and she brought food.”

Kurt woke slowly, a little confused as to where he was and why he was there before suddenly remembering as Ian woke up from napping on his chest and began to cry. Blaine took him as Patrick began to fuss. Santana reached for him, saying, “I didn’t come all the way down here to leave without holding some babies. Now who’s this little guy?”

Kurt and Blaine introduced their sons as a nurse came in with bottles of formula. Santana relinquished Patrick to Kurt, so that Kurt and Blaine could feed them for the first time. “I’ll get my chance,” she said. “Within a few days you’ll let absolutely anyone feed them if it means you get to rest or sleep. And I’d rather not have to go home and change; spit-up is not really a look I can rock at work. By the way, I don’t envy you having babies that wake each other up. We’re already telling Amelia she can’t wake the new baby up when it gets here. She thinks it’s going to be like a doll she can carry around. I’ll have to bring her over to see yours so she gets the idea that they’re different.”

Kurt looked wary. “Don’t worry. I’m not actually going to let her hold them. I might have done more than my share of irresponsible things in my life, but I’m not going to let a three year old hold a newborn.” She assured him. “I, however, do know what I’m doing, so hand me that burp cloth and give me a baby or two so you can eat.” They both ate, and then Santana returned the babies, kissed all four of them, and left.

Both sets of parents arrived the next day, and sent Kurt and Blaine home to shower and nap. They arrived at the hospital somewhat more rested several hours later to discover their fathers out in the hallway, looking unhappy. Burt spoke up first, saying, “Boys, please go in there and tell your mothers that grandfathers are perfectly capable of holding and feeding babies.”

Blaine held up his hands in surrender. “No way. I’m not getting into that. I’m just going to consider myself lucky if they let Kurt and I hold our sons.”

Kurt laughed and said, “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”

* * *

Both babies did well, and after losing a few ounces the day after birth began to gain weight again, so they were released late in the afternoon two days after they arrived. The next several days were a whirlwind of visiting friends and relatives and very little sleep, but Kurt and Blaine could not have been happier.

The only dark cloud came when the men were getting up from a nap the day after bringing the boys home, when they overheard Carole scolding Burt in the kitchen. “Burt, you can’t eat that. You know what the doctor said.”

“Come, on, once won’t hurt,” he whined in return.

Entering the kitchen, Kurt said in a guarded tone, “What did the doctor say?”

Carole answered while his father looked guilty. “His blood pressure is up, and the doctor says it increases his risk for another heart attack and stroke. He’s on a new medication and he has to watch his diet, and he needs to get more exercise.”

“That’s it. You are now a vegan, at least while under my roof. I lived with Rachel for two years; I’m quite capable of making sure you get all the nutrients you need without any animal protein, and it will help your blood pressure.”

“But son. . . .” His protests died out when he looked at his son, then at his wife, and realized he had already lost.

Later that day, after Kurt had gone to the store to get the food necessary for the new diet they would all be following until his parents left, Blaine received a phone call. “Babe, I need to go out for a few minutes. Adam has some questions about how a few things are going at rehearsals, so I’m going to meet him for coffee for a few minutes. Burt, do you want to come with me? It’ll be boring, but the coffee shop is a few blocks away, so it’ll be a chance to get some exercise.”

Burt really didn’t want to leave his grandsons, but something told him to go. After they reached the street, he turned to Blaine and said, “Please tell me there’s a slice or two involved in this walk.”

“You know it,” Blaine grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note about the first ultrasound: at this stage of pregnancy, particularly with pregnancy involving any sort of assisted reproduction techniques, it is common to do an ultrasound to confirm pregnancy and look for a heartbeat. Because it is (at least often) a transvaginal ultrasound, the pregnant patient undresses from the waist down and is in stirrups. For this reason, in Kurt and Blaine’s situation, they would not be called back until she was prepped and covered to preserve her modesty as much as possible.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please comment! Comments are calorie free Christmas cookies and sales without crowds rolled into one :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys and their boys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up a bit early today, as I won't have time later! Sorry if this causes problems for anyone, and I hope that anyone still reading this was able to find it. To apologize, this chapter is short. I ended chapters where it seemed logical, story-wise, to do so, but that has resulted in some uneven chapter lengths. It seems like for the rest of the story, chapters ended up being either very long or very short.

CHAPTER 14

One evening after getting the boys both to sleep, the two men hung over the edge of the crib watching their babies snuggle together in their sleep. They had taken turns going out to Christmas shop for the boys, and although Kurt felt slightly guilty about it, pretty much everyone else’s gift was going to be delivered; he wasn’t sure how new parents shopped for Christmas before the internet. Turning to Blaine, he said, “Sweetheart, what do you want for Christmas?”

“Eight, no make that ten, maybe twelve, hours of uninterrupted sleep. Then maybe sex, but maybe just more sleep.”

“Mmm. Right. I don’t think there’s any way I can provide that. I’ll improvise.”

Their parents had both stayed for a week, then Carole had stayed another week, and Blaine’s mom was there now. Everyone would be there to spend Christmas with them, but after that they would be on their own. Kurt brought up a subject they’d both been avoiding. “Honey, we need a nanny. I really don’t want to put the boys in daycare when they’re babies. We have to find one, maybe two, since we both work such crazy hours.”

“What about Shelby’s Broadway daycare?” Blaine asked.

“Maybe when they’re older, but right now I don’t think it’s a good idea. They’re too young. And just like we didn’t like having cars and sports pushed on us, I don’t think we should push Broadway on our kids. Music lessons are a given once they’re older, and I don’t mind dance lessons if they show an interest, but let’s just expose them to everything, including sports, and see what they want to do.”

They called an agency and began interviewing two days later, and by Christmas had found two nannies, both college students, who would start just after New Year’s. The first, Alyssa, was a music major. She took most of her classes in the morning, so that she was free to rehearse or play gigs at night. She agreed to work from late morning to early evening. Katie, an English major, overlapped with her, working from late afternoon until late evening, and was willing to work after midnight if necessary, since she didn’t have any early morning classes. They both worked Tuesday through Saturday, and they relied on friends or gave one of the nannies extra hours to cover Sunday matinees. Often Kurt or Blaine or both were home, but the nannies enabled them to work at home, and occasionally catch up on sleep. The arrangement was a bit unconventional, but it worked and everyone was happy with it.

* * *

Christmas was fun, with Burt and Carole staying in the spare room, which was serving as a guest room until they had another baby. Finn and Quinn, along with Stephen and Carole Ann, were placed on air mattresses in the informal living area. Blaine’s parents and Cooper stayed in a hotel a couple of blocks away. It was crowded and chaotic and full of love and warmth and surprises. Kurt decided, among other things, to give his dad a reprieve from the vegan diet he had imposed while in New York, just for Christmas. This was done in part to avoid having to listen to Finn complain about having to eat like he did when with Rachel. He was frying bacon to go with breakfast for Blaine, Finn, Cooper, Blaine’s parents, and anyone other than his dad who might want some when they got the biggest surprise of all. He expected the smell to bring Finn and probably Stephen, who loved bacon almost as much; what he didn’t expect was for Quinn to bolt out of the makeshift bed and dart towards the bathroom in his design studio, where he could clearly hear her emptying her stomach. His first thought was that a stomach virus was the last thing they all needed on Christmas. He went to the door and knocked, calling, “Quinn? Are you okay in there?”

He heard the toilet flush and the sink run before a sheepish looking Quinn emerged, smiling a small smile, despite the fact that she still looked a bit green. “Yeah. Just not really used to this yet. I don’t think this one likes bacon.”

“What?” The question echoed from Burt, Carole, and Blaine’s parents nearly simultaneously. They had been in the nursery admiring the boys sleeping.

“Yeah. Um, surprise? Quinn didn’t want to tell anyone until she was further along, but I guess we can’t really keep it a secret any longer. Merry Christmas?” Finn stumbled over his explanation.

Carole asked, “How far along are you?”

“About eight weeks. It’s a honeymoon baby.”

At that point, Blaine and Cooper emerged from the nursery carrying the boys and surveyed the scene, everyone looking back and forth from Quinn to Finn. “What’d we miss?” Blaine asked.

Later, as they opened gifts, Finn announced, “Christmas in Ohio next year.”

“Why?” Kurt demanded.

“Dude, whoever has the youngest kid in diapers gets Christmas at their house, or close. We can do Mom and Dad’s house too. Once they’re all out of diapers we can alternate.” Everyone had to laugh, but no one could fault his logic.

* * *

The first crisis hit the first week of February. The play Blaine had in rehearsals had opened in late January, and he had his stand-in take a week of the play he was performing in while he directed the first week of the show. After that it was on autopilot and an assistant took over, so Blaine could return to performing. Alyssa got the flu, so she was out, but Katie was there as usual, and since he had no rehearsals, he felt like he could manage. Kurt was overseas for the usual February Fashion Weeks, but they both agreed it would not be wise to take two two-month-olds on a transatlantic flight, so he and Blaine would be spending Blaine’s birthday apart for the first time in their marriage. The morning of his birthday, Blaine awoke at half past four in the morning to hear Ian shrieking in pain; by six, Patrick had joined him. Both were running fevers. Blaine had no idea what to do. He tried to give them baby Tylenol, but they just spit it out. By seven, he called Carole in tears. At her instruction, he called the pediatrician’s office when they opened at eight. By nine-thirty, they had both been diagnosed with double ear infections. When Kurt called that afternoon, which was actually late evening for him, having been in shows and events all day, Blaine was crying. Kurt felt awful, both for abandoning Blaine to deal with this alone, although there was no way he could have known it would happen, and for his sons, having to go through the nightmare of pain that ear infections could be. He offered to come home, but Blaine insisted it was important for his business that he stay and get as many orders as he could. Kurt stayed, but was distracted the rest of the time he was away. By the time he made it home, Blaine looked exhausted, and Kurt thought maybe a bit older, but both boys were happy and healthy, their Papa having seen them through their illness.

Then, there was the matter of feeding them. When the boys were six months old, the doctor said they were ready for so-called solid food, which really meant food other than formula. Having seen the baby food Finn and Rachel fed Stephen, Kurt announced that he refused to feed his children “paste.” He bought a steamer and made his own baby food, which both boys steadfastly refused to eat. Santana finally told him to mash or puree whatever he and Blaine ate, finely to start, gradually leaving more texture. First, she told him, they wanted taste in their food – Kurt had been foregoing all seasoning, based on the advice in his baby books. Second, she told him that they would eat what Kurt and Blaine ate when they were older, instead of asking for separate, bland, processed meals like so many children.

“Look at Amelia. She eats my mother’s migas, enchiladas, anything with pasta, no matter how spicy, pretty much everything other than my mom’s tortilla soup.”

“If she eats whatever you do, why doesn’t she eat the tortilla soup?” Kurt challenged.

“Because as great a cook as my mom is, her tortilla soup is awful, that’s why.” She laughed. “We learned to eat it to suck up, but Amelia doesn’t need to do that, because according to my mother, she can do no wrong.”

As they boys grew older, they gained the ability to sit up by themselves and to manipulate toys. What that usually meant was that if one of them had a toy, the second would wrestle it away from him and then hit him with it. The apartment usually echoed with shrieks of rage from one baby or the other. “Twins will be great, everyone said. They’ll entertain each other.” Kurt muttered under his breath as he deposited Patrick, furious at having been deprived of the toy he had stolen from Ian, into his crib, and then went to comfort Ian. When Blaine came in from a meeting a short time later, he said, “Tell me the story again about Jeff and how he and his twin got along, please.”

“Maybe it’s because they were boy/girl twins?” Blaine mused. “Although, I have to say, maybe it was because Jeff was afraid of his sister. I only met her a few times, but I’m pretty sure she’s meaner than he is.”

“That doesn’t take much,” Kurt said drily. “Jeff doesn’t have a mean bone in his entire body.”

“True,” Blaine replied. “So what’s going on here?” He asked, taking Ian, who had finally calmed down.

“Apparently it was Patrick’s turn to swipe the toy and smack his brother, that’s what. Now Patrick’s in time-out.” Kurt leaned back on the couch, debating whether he should get something to eat or just pass out. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d eaten breakfast, assuming he’d remembered to do so.

That evening, Blaine called Jeff. Jeff called his mom, then called back. Blaine called Kurt to deliver the bad news. “Um, apparently Jeff and his sister did the same stuff. The entertaining each other and playing well together didn’t really kick in until preschool. They did sleep better together and have fewer bad dreams when they were together even earlier, but his mom said babies and toddlers tend to be too self-centered to really play together well, twins or not. She said it’s pretty typical, developmentally.”

Kurt sighed. “They do sleep better together. It’s just everything else that drives me crazy. When they’re asleep it’s great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you so much for reading! Please, please leave comments, and if there's more that you want to see, please let me know, and I'll consider writing it as a chapter in Along the Road.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys' journey in parenting continues . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is going up about five hours late! Believe me, it's more on time than most of the things in my life. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and happy holidays (and/or happy school break) to everyone. This chapter is much longer than last week's, and I hope you enjoy it. Please review and comment!

CHAPTER 15

Fights and all, Kurt and Blaine both loved their sons and loved being parents. They were ridiculously excited as the boys’ first birthday approached. They threw a huge, elaborate party, which was saved from disaster by the boys’ grandmothers, who told the proud dads to have the boys open only a few presents, and deal with the rest later, to prevent them from becoming overwhelmed. Blaine had, over Kurt’s objections, done a bit of research and discovered that Patrick preferred vanilla, but Ian absolutely loved chocolate in all forms. Therefore, a large cake was baked that was half chocolate and half vanilla, and each of the babies had his own small cake, part of which they ate, and part of which they wore, smearing it over their clothes, in their hair, on their highchairs, and on anything and anyone they could reach. Everyone thought it was adorable, except Kurt, who was about to have heart failure looking at the mess; however, once Blaine calmed him down, he had to admit the cake-covered boys both looked pretty cute. That night, after Kurt had cleaned cake and icing from every crevice of the high-chairs and sprayed the clothes they had been wearing down with stain-release and thrown them in the washer, he went to help Blaine bathe the boys. They had been wiped down after the party, but still really needed a bath. As Kurt entered the bathroom, Blaine was desperately trying to get chocolate out of Ian’s ears. Patrick had a streak of red in his hair, which was rapidly darkening to the same chestnut-brown as Kurt’s. Kurt left Ian to Blaine and attacked Patrick with shampoo, trying to do away with the improvised punk look. Half an hour later the boys were clean, dried, dressed, and had their bedtime stories. Kurt leaned against the crib, watching the boys cuddle together sleepily. Blaine put his arms around Kurt and nuzzled the back of his neck. “They’re so beautiful,” he murmured quietly. Kurt nodded his agreement. “Ready to do it again?”

“What?” Kurt whispered, afraid of disturbing the boys, but turning in Blaine’s arms.

Glancing at the babies to make sure they were close enough to sleep not to protest their fathers’ absence, Blaine took Kurt’s hand and gently pulled him from the room.

“We said two, and we have two. We said not too far apart, and they’re only forty-five minutes apart. We don’t need to do this again,” Kurt said as soon as the door closed behind him.

“We left it open to more,” Blaine pointed out, “And we said we’d each father a child.”

“But we weren’t counting on twins,” Kurt argued.

“You promised me a little you,” Blaine pouted.

“Your plan to get an egg donor who looked like me worked beautifully. Patrick looks as much if not more like me than he does you. He was even born with the same shade of blonde hair I had, and Dad said it’s darkening at about the same rate mine did. So we do have a little me already.” Kurt tried logic.

“It’s not the same. He has my personality. He’s easy-going. I want a baby with his or her Daddy’s personality,” Blaine told him.

“Genetics is no guarantee of personality,” Kurt told him.

“I know. But –“ Blaine cut himself off. He was running out of arguments, but he really wanted this, and he wanted it soon. He wanted his children to be closer, both emotionally and in terms of age, than he and Cooper had been growing up. At the same time, however, he knew that he couldn’t force Kurt to do it, no matter what they’d agreed to before, and he didn’t want to; he wanted Kurt to want to do this, for both of them, and for the boys.

They were sitting on the couch in the family room now. Kurt rubbed the back of Blaine’s hand with his thumb. He really didn’t want to do this, but he also really didn’t want to hurt Blaine, and he had promised. It was just the entire process. He wasn’t sure he could deal with it; he wasn’t sure how Blaine had been able to do it last time. It wasn’t that he never masturbated; he did, sometimes, but rarely, preferring to involve Blaine if at all possible in any sexual activity he engaged in. But to not only masturbate, but do so in a cup and then hand the results to a stranger in a medical clinic seemed so humiliating. And everyone there, staff and patients, would know, or could guess with a high degree of accuracy, exactly why he was there. And why on earth did almost everyone who worked in those places have to be women? They were very nice, but still . . . . 

Sighing, Kurt dropped his head back against the top of the couch. “I’m not saying no. I just, well, I wasn’t expecting this right now. Let me take a few days to try to wrap my head around this, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine said quietly, leaning over to kiss Kurt slowly. Coming back up for air, he said, “I do love you, you know that?” And he leaned in for another kiss before pulling Kurt to his feet.

As Blaine tugged him to their room, Kurt said, “You do know we’re just getting back to being able to do this again, right? You’re willing to give it up?”

Blaine just smiled, and Kurt knew he’d lost.

* * *

This time, finding an egg donor and a surrogate was more difficult. Both would have been willing to use Macy again, but she had been advised that four pregnancies, involving five children, was quite enough, and she needed to take a break at the very least, if not stop having children all together. Blaine tried to convince Kurt they could use a tall egg donor, but Kurt would have no part of it, insisting that if this child was tall, it would be due to his DNA, not his or her genetic mother’s. After a frustrating day looking, they agreed to spend two hours, one day a month, looking. They spent several days looking through books and computer profiles of egg donors and surrogates. It took nearly a year, but finally they found what they were looking for.

Kurt was listlessly looking through egg donor profiles, while Blaine tried to find a surrogate anywhere near as good as Macy. New profiles were added all the time, and there were tons to start with, so they hadn’t been through all of them. Each time they went in, they started with the new ones. After nearly an hour, Blaine said, “Come here, Kurt, I think I found someone.”

“I think I found an egg donor who sounds good, too. She was just added a couple of weeks ago.”

“Mine too.”

They pulled the profile books together and found themselves looking at identical pages. The girl in question was petite, just a bit over five feet tall, and the picture she had provided showed a young woman with olive skin and cascades of dark brown, nearly black, curls down her back, and a full-lipped smile that reached her sparkling hazel eyes. She was divorced with three children, and was in law school; she was volunteering to be an egg donor or a surrogate in order to finance her education.

“Um, wow,” Kurt said, realizing they were both looking at the same profile. “We need to think about this. There are reasons they say to use a gestational surrogate and a separate egg donor.”

“I know, but she’s perfect,” Blaine argued.

“They say if the surrogate isn’t genetically related to the baby she’ll be less likely to try to keep it, and the courts are less likely to recognize her claim to the child even if she does try,” Kurt repeated the reasoning they had been told.

“I know, but they used to do it this way all the time, it was the way surrogacy worked in the beginning, before all the assisted reproduction technology. There are just a few really famous cases that have made headlines and given traditional surrogacy kind of a bad name,” Blaine said.

“Um, I am not having sex with her, if you’re arguing for traditional surrogacy, the way some people used to do it before ART,” Kurt told him, “And I don’t want to be one more famous case of surrogacy that doesn’t work out.”

“Of course not, neither do I,” Blaine answered. “How about this? We can meet her, talk to her, get a feel for her like we did with Macy. Then we can make a decision.”

“Okay,” Kurt said.

* * *

A week later, they were seated in a conference room at the clinic and a tiny young woman was led in by a staff member. She held out her hand to the two men and said, “Hi, I’m Jessica.”

Kurt and Blaine introduced themselves, and then Kurt said, “So, Jessica, why do you want to be a surrogate?”

“I wish I could give you an altruistic answer like to bring joy to childless couples, but honestly, for the money. I’m divorced, and I’m in law school. I got enough in the divorce settlement to pay for two years of law school; unfortunately, it’s a three year program. I’d like to get out without being buried in student loans. I’ve had three healthy, uneventful pregnancies, being pregnant has never bothered me, and it seemed like a way I could continue to study, be with my children as much as school permits me to be now, and still make the money I need to pay for my last year. Once I get out, I can get a job and support my kids the way they deserve, the way things were before the divorce.”

Kurt nodded, appreciating the honesty. Blaine picked up the questioning. “So, you have three kids?”

She nodded. “Yes. The whole sordid story, if you want to know it, is I started dating a guy in college. I thought he was the one, so we slept together and weren’t as careful as we should have been, and I got pregnant. I was an English major, since I’d always planned to go to law school and it really doesn’t matter much what your major is for law school, and I enjoy writing. Well, once I got pregnant, we got married in a hurry, and I had my first child when I was twenty-one, just a month after I graduated. Neither of us thought we could manage to get both of us through law school and raise a baby, so I went to work as a legal secretary, since it’s one of the few things you can do with an English degree other than grad school or food service, and put him through law school and raised our daughter. When I was twenty-three, I had my first son, and my second at twenty-five. Two years ago, when I was twenty-seven, my ex decided he wasn’t cut out for marriage, at least not to me, or fatherhood. So, we got divorced, and the rest is history.”

“Wow,” Blaine said, not really sure what else to say.

“Sorry,” Jessica apologized. “I guess that was more than you really wanted to know.”

“No, that’s okay,” Kurt told her. “It helps us understand your motivations. So, if you had to pick one, would you be a surrogate or an egg donor?” He still had his heart set on using her as an egg donor, even more so now that he had seen her and talked to her. She looked enough like Blaine to be his sister, and she was clearly intelligent.

“A surrogate, because it pays more. Honestly, I’ve got to get the money for school, so I have to look at the bottom line, but I wouldn’t mind doing either or both.”

Blaine thought carefully about how to phrase his next question. He knew Kurt really wanted her to donate the egg for their baby, but he didn’t want them to have to go through the heartbreak of a legal battle over their child. “Do you think if you carried a child who was genetically yours as a surrogate you would have trouble giving the baby to the prospective parents?”

She thought for a moment, then said, “No. In my mind any baby I carry from now on is someone else’s. I couldn’t afford another child even if I wanted one, and I really don’t. After three, I’m done. I don’t regret any of my children, but I don’t want any more.”

Both men nodded, but Kurt had one more question. He reached for Blaine’s hand and intertwined their fingers. He looked from their linked hands to Jessica’s face, then said, “How do you feel about gay couples? How will you feel about giving the child you carry to a gay couple?”

She smiled. “Love is love. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking about a man and a woman, two women, or two men.”

The men smiled back at her. They went on to discuss access during the pregnancy, and then wrapped the meeting up. “Thanks so much for meeting with us. We’ll be in touch,” Blaine told her. She took that as her cue, standing up and bidding them goodbye.

After she left, Kurt turned to Blaine and said, “Well?” His eyes were shining and he was practically bouncing up and down.

Blaine laughed and said, “Okay, you win. We’ll use her as both the surrogate and egg donor. I think when it’s the same person they do a direct insemination instead of an egg retrieval, so it might end up being cheaper for us while still more money for her, so everyone wins.”

They had to endure one more meeting with the counselors at the clinic and another one with their attorney, both to discuss the potential pitfalls with using the same person as a surrogate and an egg donor. Blaine listened, but Kurt tuned them out; he just had a good feeling about this girl.

They decided to try to time the birth in December or January. The boys would be three then. It had the added advantage of working out, time-wise, for Jessica; if they were lucky, the baby would be born after her finals were over for the fall semester of her second year, and before the spring semester began. She would also receive her final payment well before payment for her final year was due. They laughed when they found themselves in the same place they had been almost exactly three years before, waiting with their surrogate in the clinic waiting room. Kurt began to pace after they called Jessica back to prep her. 

“Is it normal to be this nervous every time?” He mused out loud.

Blaine took his hand and pulled him back down onto the couch. “Probably. Now calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.”

A few minutes later they were back in the ultrasound room, where the tech was showing them their baby, and pointing out its heartbeat. She continued to stare at the monitor, taking measurements and entering them into her computer; she wasn’t talking to them anymore. “Is something wrong?” Kurt asked. The tech hadn’t done this with the boys.

“Probably not,” she answered. “I’m just going to have the doctor come in and take a look.” She left the room, and the three remaining occupants grew quiet.

After a minute, Blaine tried to break the tension. “The baby looked fine, just like the boys did, and the heartbeat looked great. Everything’s going to be alright.” Kurt just stared at him. That was easy for him to say; his genetic children were perfect, just like he was. It was only Kurt’s child that had something wrong with it.

The doctor came in a few moments later and repeated the ultrasound. She took measurements and entered them into the computer, comparing them to the ones the tech had taken. Finally she sighed a bit and turned to Kurt, Blaine and Jessica. “Well, the baby’s development is exactly what we’d expect, given the date we did the insemination.”

“I would hope so,” Jessica said, “Since my most intimate relationship these days is with my Contracts case book.”

The doctor continued, “The reason we’re a little concerned is that while all development seems to be right on track, the baby’s small. Noticeably small, given the gestational age. Usually we release surrogates to the OB they have agreed upon with the couple after this ultrasound, but we’d like to see you again in a couple of weeks, just to check and see how the baby is developing. After that, if everything looks good, we’ll release you. However, we will want you to see a perinatologist during your pregnancy, as well as a normal OB. Jessica and Kurt, do you know how big you were when you were born? And Jessica, how big were your other babies?”

Jessica and Kurt glanced at each other. “I was just under six pounds, five pounds fifteen ounces,” Kurt told her.

Jessica said, “I was six and a half pounds, and my babies have ranged from six pounds, nine ounces to seven pounds, twelve ounces.”

The doctor looked a little relieved. “You were both a bit on the small side, and Jessica, your babies have ranged from a little on the small side of average to average. The baby seems to be developing perfectly, and so I’m hopeful it’s just genetics; you two may just be preprogrammed to produce smaller babies.” She spent a few more minutes trying to reassure them, then left. 

Kurt reached out and squeezed Jessica’s hand, then took Blaine’s and left her to get dressed. They were quiet while they waited and then scheduled the next appointment once Jessica rejoined them. They told her goodbye and headed home. They had a couple of hours before they had to go to their respective theaters for work, and they wanted to see the boys. 

They took the boys to Central Park, allowing them to run and play. They lagged behind and talked while they kept an eye on their sons. “What if something’s really wrong?” Kurt finally asked.

“Then we’ll deal with it. We can handle whatever it is,” Blaine tried to reassure him.

“This is my fault. Either my faulty genes or else Jessica’s, and I’m the one who was so set on using her,” Kurt insisted.

“And I agreed to use her, because she was the right choice. We used the same criteria as last time. And there’s nothing wrong with you, or your genes. Whatever is meant to be, is going to be. We just have to prepare ourselves the best we can,” Blaine said. He was just as unsettled as Kurt was, but he understood that if he didn’t remain calm, Kurt’s worry would quickly spiral into an uncontrollable panic, so he had to remain calm for Kurt. Panicking wouldn’t help either of them, the boys, or the baby.

“Maybe our last child will just be small; it wouldn’t be so bad to have a kid who’s short,” Kurt said. Both of the boys were in the ninetieth percentile for height.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Blaine agreed. “Take it from someone who knows. But birth weight isn’t necessarily related to height.”

“Really?” Kurt wasn’t really sure of anything they were saying.

“Yeah. Were you serious when you said you weighed under six pounds at birth?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Because speaking as your husband, who outweighed you by quite a bit at birth and is still a little more than two and a half inches shorter than you, I promise they aren’t related. Were you born early?”

“About a week. How much did you weigh?”

“Eight pounds, fourteen and a half ounces, and I was two weeks early.”

“Oh, my God, Blaine! How? Your mom’s tiny.”

“The miracle of birth? Honestly, apparently my birth wasn’t particularly easy, and my mom said she knew it was true love because she didn’t hate me afterwards, and those were the only two options after the experience.” Kurt smiled, and for the first time since the appointment, Blaine felt truly sure that whatever happened, everything would be okay.

* * *

Two weeks later they were back at the clinic, nervously watching the ultrasound monitor. The doctor was doing this ultrasound, taking careful measurements. It took a long time, and Jessica looked uncomfortable, but silently endured the procedure. Finally, the doctor sighed and looked at the trio. “Well, your little one’s development is perfect, right on track, but it’s still small. We’re going to want to keep a close eye on it, make sure its development continues and doesn’t stop or stall. Make an appointment to see the perinatologist before you leave here, and your normal OB as well. I’ll get in touch with them and send your records, let them know our concerns, and we’ll work together to follow you.”

As they left, Kurt said, “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or worried at this point.”

“Well, she said the baby’s development is perfect, and they’re really only concerned about its size, so I’d say let’s be relieved for a bit and then just look forward to our new baby. I’d say we need to start talking to the boys about it in another month or so.” Blaine said.

“They’re concerned about size and whether or not development continues to stay on pace,” Kurt countered.

“Yes, but so far it is on track, so let’s not worry about problems we don’t have yet,” Blaine told him. Kurt sighed, and wished he could just stop worrying.

* * *

Either Kurt or Blaine or both attended each of Jessica’s appointments with her. Each appointment showed the same thing: their baby was small enough to cause concern, but not true worry, especially given the fact that its development continued to be exactly what it should be. They were in the perinatologist’s office that summer waiting for a fourteen week check-up; because of the concerns regarding the baby’s size, Jessica was being followed much more closely than Macy had been, and she had a lot more appointments. 

They were discussing childbirth classes. Since Jessica wasn’t married, and her best friend was going to watch her children while she was giving birth to Kurt and Blaine’s, they were going to act as her coaches. They had signed up for childbirth classes, which she joked were only for them, as this was her fourth time to give birth, and she had a pretty good idea what she was supposed to do, no matter how clueless they were; she told them they needed to go just so she didn’t have to coach them through coaching her. They had selected a two-month course that met each Sunday evening; the course directors suggested parents start during the end of the second trimester and end in the third, so they would start when Jessica was twenty-four weeks along, ending two months before the baby’s due date. Kurt joked that with an extra eight weeks to plan, they would be ready for anything by the time it arrived.

Soon they were called back to the ultrasound room. The perinatologist did the ultrasounds herself, rather than having a nurse or a tech do it the way the normal OB did. She took the usual measurements, entered them, and compared them to the last ones. “Well,” she began, “Same story as last time. Your little one is lagging behind on size, but everything else is developing perfectly normally.”

Suddenly, something occurred to Kurt. “Does that mean he or she will always be small?”

“Not necessarily,” She told him, “But the possibility does exist.”

“How small?” Blaine asked.

“Hard to tell at this point. Kurt is within normal range on height, Jessica is petite. There’s no reason to think the baby will be shorter than Jessica, but I’d be surprised if it was as tall as Kurt.” The doctor told them. Both men thought quietly. Jessica was five foot one. If the baby was a girl that would be short, but not too bad; it was only an inch shorter than Rachel, and neither of them really registered that she was a bit short anymore. However, for a boy that could result in quite a bit of teasing. As if she was reading their minds, the doctor went on to ask, “Did you want to know the baby’s gender?”

“Isn’t it too early to tell?” Kurt inquired.

“Nope. You need a good ultrasound machine, and mine’s the best, and a cooperative baby, and yours is being very cooperative at the moment.”

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other. “Yes,” Blaine breathed as Kurt nodded.

“You have a beautiful little girl.”

The two men exchanged a glance before Kurt dissolved into laughter. “Oh, my God, my mother is never going to let us hear the end of this!” Blaine exclaimed.

Jessica and the doctor stared at them for a moment as if they had lost their minds before a giggling Kurt gave them an abbreviated version of the “Anderson men can’t have girls” story, complete with twin boys to prove the theory. Blaine just blushed and tried to pretend he wasn’t there.

* * *

No one expected them to know the baby’s sex yet, so they decided to keep it to themselves for a few days. As they sat on the couch after getting the boys to bed, they let it sink in. “Wow. A girl,” Blaine said.

“Baby, I love you, but you’ve said that about a hundred times today,” Kurt told him.

“I know, but, Sweetheart, we’re going to have a little girl!”

“Yep. Clued into that one already.”

“You do know my family is going to go crazy, right?” Blaine said.

“Um, would this be the same family that sent so much stuff for the boys I thought we were going to have to get a second apartment just to hold it all? The one that not only sent enough stuff to fully equip our house for two babies and then some, but both grandparents’ homes as well? Crazier than that?” Kurt wanted to know.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Blaine confirmed. “You know how between us being gay and both of us being involved in theater and no one wanting to stereotype or force the boys to be a particular way we got a lot of gender neutral colors and toys?” Kurt nodded; Blaine’s family’s support and acceptance of Blaine himself and of the two of them as a couple was wonderful, even if it had not been immediate when he came out as a teenager, and Kurt was eternally grateful for it. “Well, expect to get pink this time around. A lot of pink. And dolls, and kitchens, and every stereotypical girl toy you can think of.”

“We don’t need that stuff,” Kurt pointed out. “Because so much of the boys’ stuff was neutral, and we have so much of it, we can just use their stuff. I mean Finn and Quinn had Samantha the year after we had the boys, and now she’s expecting again, and Finn says he doesn’t care if the baby is a boy, he’ll wear Sam’s old stuff even if it is pink because they already have it.” Quinn’s second child with Finn was due two months before their baby, and they had recently called with the news that she was expecting a boy this time. “Maybe we can do an exchange, pink for blue?”

Blaine kissed him gently. “I know we don’t need it. If they stopped celebrating long enough to think about it, they’d know it too. But they won’t, and even if they did, they’d send stuff anyway. Be prepared. They’re going to go crazy.”

* * *

A week passed before they could no longer keep the news to themselves. First they told the boys, explaining that since it takes a lady’s tummy for a baby to grow inside, a nice lady agreed to let Daddy and Papa’s new baby grow in her tummy until it was ready to come out, and that right now their baby sister was in that nice lady’s tummy, growing until she was big enough to come out and join them. They decided to let the boys tell their grandparents. 

“Grandpa, Grandma, we’re gonna get a baby sisser!” Ian shouted into the speaker of Kurt’s phone.

“A girl? How nice!” Carole said, while Burt called his congratulations into the phone.

Looking a bit disgruntled, Patrick corrected Carole. “Not a girl, a sister,” he insisted, enunciating very carefully, as if his brother’s mispronunciation of the word had caused his grandmother’s confusion.

Burt laughed, “I love spoiling my girls!”

“Dad,” Kurt said, “Don’t spoil her. Treat her like all the other grandkids.”

“He will,” Carole promised. “It’s just that somehow the girls seem able to wrap him around their little fingers and push all his buttons so he dances to their tune.”

“Hmph. Too bad I never learned that trick,” Kurt grumbled playfully.

“As if you couldn’t always do that,” She laughed.

Next they called Blaine’s parents. Kurt told a very indignant Ian it was Patrick’s turn to share the news. Never one for taking turns, Ian pouted, convinced that turns had nothing to do with it, and that he had somehow done something wrong when he told Grandma and Grandpa and was now being punished. Always calmer, Patrick informed his Nana and Poppy by saying, “We have a new baby sister and she’s growing in a nice lady’s tummy until she’s big enough to play with us.”

“Oh, Lord, if she’s there that long Jess is going to kill me,” Kurt muttered, prompting Blaine to laugh.

“Kurt, what did I tell you? I was right, wasn’t I?” Margaret Anderson crowed.

“Yes, Mom, you were right,” Blaine sighed, as Kurt laughed. “Although I still maintain that it is not a genetic impossibility for me to father a girl.” Kurt laughed harder as he heard Margaret’s harrumph through the phone.

Richard Anderson said, “Congratulations, Sons. Everyone’s going to be thrilled. Do you want us to tell everyone, or do you want to spread this momentous bit of news yourself? Think fast, because if you want to tell everyone yourself, I think I’m going to have to physically restrain your mother, and I’m going to have to do it within the next thirty seconds or so.”

“Let Mom have her fun,” Blaine told him. It was less work for them.

They spent the rest of the afternoon, until Kurt and Blaine had to leave for the theater, calling friends. Anyone they would see at the theater they told there. The only mishap was that somehow, they forgot to call Rachel, who heard from a mutual friend. By the time both men checked their phones at intermission, they had each received several angry texts and voice mails from her. Calling Kurt, Blaine said, “Babe, we forgot to call Rachel. I guess we screwed up.”

Kurt’s voice grew a little hard as he said, “Oh, you mean like she did when she ‘forgot’ to tell anyone she was pregnant, not once, but twice, because it might jeopardize her career? Or when she tried to abort my niece to get a part?” Kurt could forgive a lot, but as it turned out, this was one thing he couldn’t forgive, no matter how much he tried. Even Finn had managed to move past it, although he would still never let Rachel around the children, but Kurt couldn’t. At the end of the day, family meant everything to him, more than designing or performing, more than success, more than anything. He still couldn’t fathom how his best friend could put her career in front of the man she supposedly loved, her best friend, and most of all, her children, and still expect everyone to carry on as if she hung the moon. He was definitely not in the mood to call her back and try to soothe her bruised ego.

* * *

Because Kurt insisted they had enough baby clothes and gear to stock their own baby store, there would be no shower this time. It did not, however, stop the flow of baby gifts, which started as a trickle when it began a few days after the announcement that they were having a girl, and quickly escalated to a flood. To help deal with the influx, they packed up the clear ‘boy’ items like onesies proclaiming the wearer to be “Daddy’s Boy” and shipped them to Quinn. A few days later, Kurt found himself signing for a large box from her, which, when opened, revealed two years’ worth of baby and toddler clothes in pink, yellow and lavender, adorned with ruffles and bows.

He called Quinn to thank her, but said, “Really, while I appreciate it, we don’t need it.”

“Yeah, well, news flash, my dear brother-in-law, your apartment is as big as my house, and I’m having my fourth. Well, third that I’m giving birth to, if you count Beth, but fourth kid to live with me and what that boils down to is we have less room per person than you and you can’t return the stuff unless we have a girl.”

“I thought you were having a boy?” Kurt was confused.

“This time. We haven’t ruled out one or two more,” Quinn explained. “Hey, right now I’m only beating you two with Rachel’s help. I have to at least tie you.” Kurt just laughed. He would be worried if he didn’t know Quinn loved Stephen and Carole Ann just as much as if they were her own, and treated them as if they were; Rachel had given up all rights to them, and Quinn’s adoption of them had been finalized two months before Samantha’s birth.

* * *

As more and more things arrived for the new baby, and preparations continued to be made, Kurt and Blaine found it interesting to see how their sons reacted to different things. The differences they had noticed between the two from an early age seemed more pronounced. Patrick was fascinated by the colors and textures of everything that arrived. The way things looked and felt always entranced him. After seeing something new, he always tried to draw it, digging through his enormous collection of crayons, markers and colored pencils to find the one that was the closest in color. The fact that things so many things for his new sister were pink, as opposed to the primary colors he and his brother had (Kurt didn’t want to force them to wear stereotypically boy colors, but without making them himself, boys’ clothes were easier to find in primary colors, and he had to admit they were easier clean and stains showed less), was a never ending source of curiosity for him, leading him to examine the contrasts between the colors for minutes on end, a long time for something to hold a toddler’s attention. Ian, on the other hand, didn’t care about the new things unless they made noise. Sound fascinated him the way color and texture did his brother. He was drawn to instruments, and the grand piano Kurt had bought Blaine to celebrate their first anniversary in the apartment was his favorite plaything; he would try to pick out tunes he heard his fathers singing. Therefore, the clothes that arrived were utterly boring for him, but any toy that made noise, or could make noise when combined with something else (smacked against the furniture, for example), led him on a search for a way to duplicate the sound. It was nothing they had not noticed before, but it amused Kurt and Blaine to see how it continued in response to the baby’s things.

It was clear that while both boys could see and hear perfectly, Patrick was more interested in the way things looked, while Ian cared how they sounded. When the boys had just turned one, they had taken them to a children’s matinee performance of The Nutcracker. Patrick had loved watching the dancers, and afterwards, was drawn to pictures and books depicting ballet dancers. Ian, on the other hand, had to be physically restrained from crawling into the orchestra pit. The following autumn, they were both entranced by the falling leaves in the park, Patrick by how they looked, Ian by how they sounded under his feet. When Kurt was gone for the Fashion Weeks twice a year, Patrick could be soothed by keeping a picture of Kurt nearby; Ian, however, had to hear Kurt, which had resulted in Kurt recording himself singing and telling the boys goodnight after several phone calls at odd hours to soothe a sobbing Ian who had wanted both Papa and Daddy. Given the differences between the boys, who shared the same genetic parents, Kurt and Blaine were becoming increasingly curious to meet their new little girl, and find out what she would be like, especially since she would have different genetic parents.

* * *

As his writing and directing picked up, Blaine found he enjoyed them even more than performing. He was still in high demand as a performer, but found it harder and harder to balance performing with writing and directing and his family life. Shortly after they saw their daughter’s heartbeat for the first time, he had a long talk with Kurt. They decided he would continue to write and direct, but perform in only one play per year, taking limited engagements of no more than six months. If the play continued longer, that was fine, but it would do so without him. Financially, it wasn’t a problem, as he was actually making more writing and directing, and KHA designs was making more than enough money for them to live on. Making the decision had been hugely stressful for both he and Kurt, who was worried that he would miss performing too much; although it was clear that Blaine was stretched too thin, Kurt didn’t want to force him into a decision one way or another. However, once it was made, Blaine found he was more relaxed than he had been in years. 

Kurt, on the other hand, continued to go full speed ahead, to the point that Blaine worried about him. To make things worse, he had started getting calls at odd hours, thanks to Rachel. While she was usually working, she wasn’t always the star, and had gained a bad reputation for quitting shows for bigger or better parts, many of which didn’t pan out, leading her to turn up at her previous theater expecting to be rehired. As a result, many shows were skittish about hiring her at all, and she was beginning to work less. She had recently decided she should try her hand at television and film work, where she might be more appreciated. Since Artie and Kitty, who were now married, were working in Los Angeles, as was Cooper, with whom she somehow thought she had a connection, and Puck and Lauren were there because Lauren got a job doing some sort of computerized wizardry with a company that did movie post-production work, and while Puck could write anywhere, it helped to be in L.A. to talk to people, she felt she had a lot of connections there. However, she wasn’t going to leave without some leads, and none of her “connections” had come through for her yet, so she had been trying to curry favor with any celebrities she could spot who came to see whatever show she happened to be in at the time. One of the few things she had that gave her clout was the fact that she was friends with Kurt and Blaine, and she had apparently taken to telling people she thought could help her get ahead that she could give them an edge getting a part in one of Blaine’s plays or that through her they could get a KHA original gown. Most of them seemed to not be interested in the offer of a part on Broadway, or not think she had that much pull, a reasonable assumption since she had yet to star in one of Blaine’s shows herself. However, the chance to get Kurt’s personal phone number and a chance to wear one of his stunning original gowns, designed just for them, proved to be too much for several starlets to resist. The result was a number of late night and early morning calls for Kurt from spoiled, entitled actresses who often reminded Kurt of Rachel at her worst, demanding an original gown custom designed for them. After one such call from an up and coming starlet who was not only apparently spoiled, entitled, demanding, and rude, but drunk or high or both as well awoke them at four a.m., Blaine was finally able to convince Kurt to change his number. The new number was on a need to know basis, and everyone who did need to know was also told why the number was changed, so as a result Rachel was unable to get it until Kurt gave in a few months later, warning her that if the new number was distributed as the old one had been and he had to change it again, she would be able to contact him only through his assistant at KHA designs. Although that stopped the frustrating late night phone calls, Blaine remained concerned.

One sunny October day shortly after Kurt had returned from the fall Fashion Week shows Blaine casually told him over lunch with the boys, “I’ve decided not to choreograph the new show.”

“Ian, please eat your chicken. Daddy cut it into little bites for you, and you need to eat it, not just carrots. Patrick, you can’t just eat green beans. I know they’re good and they’re fun to eat with your hands, but you need chicken too.” Kurt was preoccupied trying to get the boys to eat. It was always hard when he came back to get them eating real food again; he knew Blaine relied a lot on take-out and sandwiches, since his cooking skills were limited. Kurt made a mental note to see if maybe he could get Blaine to take a cooking class since he’d cut back on work, not so he’d do more when Kurt was home, but so he and the boys might eat better when Kurt was gone. Suddenly what Blaine had said sunk in. “Wait, what? Are you just going to let everyone do their own thing? They’ll run into each other.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t going to be choreographed, I just said I wasn’t going to do it. We’re just starting casting calls next week, there’s no way we’ll be close to ready to open when the baby gets here, and I don’t want to worry about it. I decided to ask one of our friends to do it.” Blaine told him.

“Oh, Adam?”

“No, Adam isn’t ready. He says he wants more, but he’s too unsure of himself.”

“Yeah. I think he thought Adam’s Apples in college would take off more and be a bigger thing than it turned out to be, and the mismatch between his dreams and reality kind of threw him. He was more confident when I first met him. The pavement pounding and off-off-Broadway work didn’t really help either. I think he just thought he’d be more successful by now, and the fact that he isn’t has caused him to doubt himself. I was hoping the boyfriend would help.” Adam had been dating a guy for a few years now, and they seemed serious, but at the same time seemed in no hurry to make any formal commitments.

“I think he has. It’ll just take time,” Blaine said. “I was thinking the guy with the studio, the one who hired Brittany.”

“Mmm. Okay,” Kurt didn’t know him well, but he’d always been friendly, in a purely platonic way, to both of them, and helpful.

What Kurt didn’t realize was that while Blaine was telling the truth, there was more to it. He wanted Kurt to see that stepping back a little didn’t mean giving up everything. He was worried Kurt would, despite his rigorously healthy diet and exercise habits, end up having a heart attack just like his father had, possibly even younger. He didn’t think he could survive losing Kurt, especially not now, not with the children.

* * *

Kurt was reviewing possible audition choices, deciding which to try for and which to forego when his phone rang. Grabbing it, he saw it was Jessica, and answered cheerfully. “Hey, Jess. What’s up?” The call was unexpected, because they had just had an appointment with the doctor that morning. The only concern, other than the baby’s size, had been that Jessica’s blood pressure had been a little high, but it had dropped to well within the normal range as soon as she spent a couple of minutes lying down. The baby was due in about six weeks, on December seventeenth. It was the fourth of November, and the doctor was seeing her every week now, starting this week. “Did next week’s appointment time change?” He began to reach for a pad to take down the new information.

“Kurt, I feel really weird. I don’t know how else to describe it. Nothing hurts, nothing feels really bad, I just feel weird and like something’s wrong. I’ve never felt like this before, not with any of my other babies,” she told him.

Kurt got an icy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. “Jess, you need to call the doctor, right now,” he said, trying hard to stay calm.

“I already did. She said she can’t diagnose weird over the phone, and she told me to go in to labor and delivery and let them check me out.”

“Why the hospital? Why not her office?” Kurt was starting to panic now. 

“Probably because her office closes in ten minutes,” Jessica told him logically. “Kurt, I’m scared. I’m sorry, but could you or Blaine meet me there? I’m on my way.”

“I’m on the way,” he said, grabbing his keys. Because he wasn’t in a show right now, he had given Katie some vacation time, and had let Alyssa go early to get ready for an important gig; someone from a record company was coming to hear her tonight. He bundled the boys up as quickly as he could, calling Santana as he hailed a cab. He dropped them at her apartment; she would be leaving for work shortly, but Brittany would be home, and the boys would enjoy playing with Brianna, their younger daughter, and ignoring Amelia as she tried to boss all three of the younger kids around. 

Once he dropped the boys off and made it back to the waiting cab, he called Blaine. There was no answer; Blaine was in the first days of rehearsal, and usually kept his phone off, often leaving it in his bag so it wasn’t even with him. “Baby, I’m on the way to the hospital. Jess just called. Something’s wrong. Come as soon as you can.” He left the voice mail and prayed Blaine would check his phone soon.

The hospital they had chosen was actually closer to Kurt and Blaine’s apartment than Jessica’s, and traffic was bad. Although Kurt left after Jessica and had taken the time to drop the boys off, he got out of the cab just in time to see her step slowly out of the cab in front of him. He ran up and gave her a quick hug, saying, “How do you feel? Any changes? Let’s get you upstairs.” She answered his questions with a shrug and a shake of her head, and let him lead her, his hand on the small of her back, into the building. 

They were directed to the nursing desk on the labor and delivery floor. A nurse smiled and introduced herself, telling them Jessica’s doctor had called and told them to expect her, and had ordered a few tests. They were led to a private room, where the nurse asked Jessica if she would like to change into a hospital gown before they began.

“Do I have to?”

“No, it just might be more comfortable,” the nurse replied.

“Then I think I’ll stick with what I’m wearing. Hospital gowns really never struck me as being comfy, and they don’t make much of a fashion statement. Hopefully I won’t even be here all that long.” Kurt had to laugh at Jessica’s statement. He really was liking her more and more as he got to know her better.

“Well, then, let’s get started,” the nurse replied cheerfully. She placed a blood pressure cuff on Jessica’s arm and took her blood pressure, frowning at the result. “Let me go get another cuff. I think something might be wrong with this one.” She returned with another cuff, and repeated the test. Her frown grew as she said, “Your blood pressure is pretty high. Have you been having trouble with it?”

“How high?” Kurt asked.

“One-forty over one-ten,” the nurse told him.

“Um, wow. It’s been a little high at a couple of doctor’s visits, but as soon as I lie down for a few minutes it’s back down to normal,” Jessica told her.

“Well, we’ll have you lie down in a moment. First, go into the bathroom; there are cups in there, leave a urine sample for me on the shelf.”

Jessica did as she was told. While she was gone, the nurse turned to Kurt. “Has your doctor been checking her urine?”

Kurt nodded. “Every visit. She’s always told us the results were normal.” The nurse raised her eyebrows, but said no more.

When Jessica emerged, the nurse said, “Okay, go ahead and lie down.” As Kurt helped Jessica into the bed, which was a little high for her, the nurse rolled over fetal monitor. “We’re just going to see how the baby’s doing,” she told them. She pushed Jessica’s shirt up and attached the machine’s belt around her swollen abdomen. She turned the machine on, and a jagged line appeared on a screen. The machine began to spit a paper strip, with marks on it that echoed what had appeared on the screen. She watched the screen for a few minutes. “Well, the baby looks like she’s doing fine. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you,” she told Jessica. She collected the sample from the bathroom and left.

Kurt had texted Blaine the room number while Jessica was in the bathroom, and he burst into the room a few minutes after the nurse had left, looking completely panicked. Kurt grabbed his hands and squeezed them. One of them needed to stay calm, and Kurt was over his initial panic, although he was still worried. “Jessica felt odd this afternoon. The doctor told her to come in. So far all we know is that her blood pressure is really high, but the baby looks good.” 

Blaine ran his hands through his hair. “What do we do?”

“Right now, nothing. We’re here, the doctors will decide what to do.”

Blaine turned to Jessica, “How do you feel now?”

“Still weird. I can’t even describe it any other way. I should be more articulate, I’m in law school for God’s sake, but that’s the best description I can come up with.”

The nurse returned before they could continue their conversation. “Let’s take your blood pressure again,” she said. Kurt wasn’t sure what the difference would be, since it had been only fifteen minutes since the last time she took it, but he wasn’t going to argue. She once again placed the cuff around Jessica’s arm. After taking the reading she looked at the cuff in disbelief, then repeated the test again. “One-twenty over eighty-five. Normal,” she told them. “Your urine sample was completely normal too, which is strange; with your blood pressure as high as it was, we’d expect to see protein in your urine.” Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, then at Jessica; this wasn’t sounding good. “Because your blood pressure was so high before, your doctor ordered some blood tests. Someone will be in soon to take the samples.” She checked the strip the machine was spitting out and left.

Kurt and Blaine tried to make conversation with Jessica, but everyone was tense and worried. They eventually turned on the television and pretended to watch it, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts. The phlebotomist came and left, and the nurse came in every so often to check the monitor. Eventually it was a new nurse; Kurt realized with a start that if the shift change had occurred, they must have been here for several hours. Jessica had called to check on her children; Blaine did the same, laughingly reporting that Amelia had declared Brianna and the boys ‘babies’ and refused to play with them when they refused to take orders from her. Kurt mused that maybe she was more like Rachel than Santana, despite having no genetic connection and having met Rachel only a few times. Apparently, Brittany had put all four kids to bed, since she wasn’t sure when Kurt and Blaine would be back, and told them that whatever happened they should just let the boys spend the night. Kurt sighed, thankful. If someone had told him back in high school that Santana and Brittany would be his best friends, he would have suggested they lay off the drugs, but now he couldn’t imagine life without their help and support.

Jessica was dozing when their doctor came in at nearly midnight. Kurt shook her awake gently. “Well, we still don’t have the results of the blood tests,” the doctor told them. “You can either go home and sleep in your own bed, or you can stay here. Any thoughts?”

Jessica looked at Kurt, silently asking him. “I think we’d better be safe than sorry. Why don’t you stay here?” He suggested. “We’ll stay with you.”

She nodded, and reached for her phone to let her friend, who was watching her children, know she wouldn’t be coming home that night. The nurse brought her a gown, and she settled down to try to go back to sleep. 

Kurt and Blaine were dozing, Kurt in a chair and Blaine on a couch under the window, and Jessica was sleeping, when all of a sudden two nurses and a midwife bustled into the room. Kurt woke up, looking confused. The nurses began hanging bags from an I.V. pole, and their doctor came in a few moments later, as a nurse started Jessica’s I.V. “What’s going on?” Kurt and Jessica asked almost in unison.

“We got your test results back,” the doctor told Jessica. “Your liver enzymes are abnormal; you are in the early stages of liver failure. Your platelets are also very, very low.”

“How low?” Kurt asked.

“To put it into perspective, a healthy man, like you, should have a platelet count over four hundred, a woman who isn’t pregnant over three hundred, a pregnant woman’s should be over two hundred. Jessica’s platelet count is one hundred three, about half what it should be. We really haven’t seen any definite indicators of pre-eclampsia, but she’s well on her way to full blown toxemia.” 

“How? How did this happen?” Kurt asked.

“We don’t really know what causes it. We know some women are at higher risk than others, but Jessica didn’t have any of the risk factors, and really didn’t show any signs until today. The only warning sign was two episodes of slightly high blood pressure, but it went down quickly and she had no other signs, so it’s kind of surprising, but it happens that way sometimes.”

By this time Blaine was awake and had come to stand next to Kurt, who was standing as close to Jessica’s bedside as he could without getting into the nurses’ way, wrapping a comforting arm around his husband. “What do we do about it?” He asked quietly. He knew if he panicked now, Kurt would too; he could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“We deliver. Now.” The doctor told him, in a tone that left no room for argument.

That, however, did not stop Kurt from trying. “It’s too early. We still have six weeks left.”

“Your baby will be okay. We have an excellent NICU here. We’re giving Jessica medication now that will induce labor,” the doctor said.

“But . . .” Kurt tried to protest. Blaine could tell he was close to tears.

“We have to do this. Jessica’s life is in danger,” She said quietly.

Blaine drew him to the side. “Baby, I know you’re scared, but we have to pull it together. We have to be there for Jessica; she’s got to be scared too. And we need to stay calm for our little girl; when she gets here there may be decisions that need to be made, and we have to be ready.” He wiped the tears that were beginning to escape Kurt’s eyes with his thumb and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. Squeezing his hands, he said, “Okay, are you ready for this? We’re about to have a baby.” Kurt nodded.

They turned back to the doctor. “What do we do?” Blaine asked.

“The drugs will take some time to work. We’ve given Jessica a medication to soften her cervix. We’ll let that work for a few hours. She may be cramping some from that, but overall, it shouldn’t be too bad. We’ve also started I.V. fluids, and in a few hours we’ll give her Pitocin to start her labor. Until that happens, I would suggest you sleep as much as you can.” The doctor told them.

The men nodded at her, then went to speak quietly to Jessica. She was calmer than they were, but looked at Kurt sadly and said, “Kurt, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s not your fault. You’ve done everything you could. It just happens sometimes. Try to rest if you can, but yell and wake us up if you need us for anything,” he soothed.

She smiled. “I might have forgotten to mention it, but I tend to be a little loud during labor. You probably wouldn’t be able to sleep through it if you tried.” They grinned back at her and settled on the couch together, Kurt nestled between Blaine’s legs, his back against Blaine’s chest, Blaine’s arms around his waist. Looking at them, Jessica thought that she couldn’t be helping a better couple to have a child. She just prayed everything would turn out alright.

Kurt dozed fitfully, his head nestled in the crook of Blaine’s neck. Blaine couldn’t sleep, but tried to keep Kurt as comfortable as possible. He had a feeling Kurt wouldn’t be sleeping much in the next few days. Jessica had gone back to sleep. Nurses came in to check her periodically, sometimes causing her to stir briefly, but she seemed able to drop off again. Blaine ran through possible scenarios in his head, and tried not to think about what the doctor’s mention of the NICU meant. Finally, near dawn, they hung a new medication on her I.V. stand. The nurse who started it looked at Blaine, the only other person awake in the room, and said quietly, “It won’t be much longer before things start to happen.” He nodded. That must have been the medication to induce labor. After a short debate with himself, he decided not to wake either Kurt or Jessica; they both needed all the rest they could get.

“Oh, God, shit, that hurts!” Jessica yelled. Blaine checked his watch. Forty-five minutes. 

Kurt was startled suddenly out of sleep when he heard Jessica. “Are you having contractions?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. First one I’ve felt and Jesus, it won’t end,” she said.

Kurt was instantly up and in coach mode, talking her through her breathing and rubbing her back. The contraction finally ended. “What time is it?” Kurt asked.

“About seven-fifteen,” Blaine yawned.

“Exactly, Blaine,” Kurt snapped, grabbing a notebook.

“Seven-eighteen,” Blaine answered. Kurt recorded the time. Blaine sighed. Kurt hated to feel out of control and helpless. Blaine supposed it was because of all the times he had felt that way: when his mother was ill, during his father’s illnesses, when he was bullied in school, and then when he had not gotten into NYADA the first time he applied. As a result, he did anything he could to avoid the feeling, which led to some slightly obsessive-compulsive behavior at times, such as religiously recording the time and duration of each contraction, and calculating the time between each. He’d done it during Rachel’s labor and Macy’s. Blaine had hoped acting as coach would mean he could let this go, but apparently it was not to be. It said volumes about his love for and trust in Blaine that he sometimes let Blaine take control completely, but even then, he knew he would be able to stop anything that was happening at any time with just a word, so the control he gave up was never really total. “Baby, the machine is recording all of that,” he tried.

“I need to do this,” Kurt insisted, blinking back tears.

“I know. It’s okay,” Blaine told him. He’d tried talking to Kurt about it, tried to talk to him about seeing someone, but Kurt refused, and addressing it directly only seemed to increase his feelings of helplessness, and therefore his obsessiveness. Blaine was certain Jessica’s condition and the early induced labor were making things worse; he didn’t want to contribute to the problem, so he dropped the matter.

“When did the contraction start, exactly?” Kurt asked Jessica.

“I don’t know. The damn thing woke me up,” she said testily.

Kurt started to reply, but one look at Jessica shut him up. He did everything she asked all day, in between recording information about the contractions and coaching her through them, rubbing her back and shoulders. He and Blaine worked together to get her through her labor, doing whatever they could to try to ease her pain and make her feel better. 

She really didn’t want pain medication, but did say the contractions had started out stronger than with her other children, and were closer together from the beginning. Aside from the first contraction that took her by surprise, she really didn’t cuss much, at least not compared to Macy. However, as the contractions grew in intensity as the day wore on, she screamed and yelled unintelligible things. As usual, Kurt handled this better than Blaine, who couldn’t stand to see anyone in pain. By late afternoon, Blaine was ready to offer Jessica a bonus to take pain medication. About half an hour after the idea occurred to him, he actually did; Kurt shot him a withering look, and Jessica refused, on the grounds that the pain reducing drugs could actually slow labor and sometimes had adverse effects on the baby. In the end, she prevailed, insisting between contractions that she could handle the pain.

Darkness fell, and the hours continued to pass. Nurses and midwives came and went, as well as the occasional doctor. No one other than Kurt and Blaine seemed too worried about how Jessica’s labor was progressing. It was nearly dawn by the time the doctor came in and announced that Jessica was ready to push. By that time, she was completely exhausted, and Blaine had been awake over twenty-four hours. Kurt came into his element, stepping into the role of coach in a way that would have made Coach Beiste proud, encouraging and tough at the same time. Blaine was beginning to get slightly spacey from lack of sleep, and couldn’t believe how suddenly Kurt knew all the right things to do. A little over an hour later, although it seemed much longer to Blaine, a small, shrill cry rang through the room. The doctor handed the tiny baby to Kurt, and Blaine stepped in to cut the umbilical cord. They held her for less than a minute before a nurse and another doctor took her away to the other side of the room.

The nurses and doctor surrounded their little girl, and they could only stand to the side and watch helplessly. Finally, the doctor approached them as a nurse placed the baby in a glass box and whisked her out of the room. “Where are they taking her?” Blaine demanded.

“To the NICU,” the doctor said. “Okay, the good news is she’s breathing on her own and her heartbeat is steady. She is quite small, even considering how premature she is, at three pounds, twelve and a half ounces, and at thirty-four weeks, her ability to suck is just developing. We’re going to keep her here, in the NICU, until we’re sure she’s stable and can regulate her heartbeat, breathing and body temperature on her own, and we also need to be sure she can suck well enough to take a bottle. We would also like to make sure she’s gaining weight.”

“When can we see her?” Kurt interrupted.

“Give the staff in the NICU about half an hour to get her situated. After that, you can go in. There are special procedures. You will have to always wash your hands before you go in, there’s a staff member there whose sole job is to enforce that. You cannot come in if you’re sick, even with something as minor as a cold, because the babies in the NICU are either premature or very sick or both, and their immune systems are compromised or underdeveloped. On top of that, there’s a disease called RSV that can make preemies and kids with poor immune systems very, very sick – it can even be deadly, but in most people with normal immune systems it’s no more than a minor cold; it’s most typical from October to April, and we’ll vaccinate your daughter for it before she leaves here. She’ll need to be vaccinated every month until RSV season is over, and you shouldn’t take her to public places until then. Even doctor’s visits should be scheduled either first thing in the morning or right after lunch, before other people come in.”

“But we can see her, right?” Blaine followed up.

“Right,” the doctor continued, “Sorry, I got off on a tangent. Yes, you can see her. NICU visiting hours start at seven a.m., and end at eleven p.m. Some parents will stay the night, but I don’t think you will.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Kurt asked.

“Oh, you won’t need to. Only the parents of the most critical patients stay the night, and it doesn’t look like your little one is going to meet that criteria, so you’ll be asked to leave at eleven,” the doctor explained.

Kurt looked at Blaine. He was a little relieved by the explanation, but he still didn’t like the idea of leaving their baby in the hospital all alone at night. Blaine smiled weakly back at him.

By this time, Jessica was through with the last of the procedures and a nurse was helping her to clean up. A young woman who did not appear to be a nurse brought her paperwork. Blaine wondered if one was still allowed to call the volunteers who did this sort of work candy-stripers; if not, he had no idea what to call her. He was brought out of his reverie by Jessica waving the woman in their direction. “They’re the dads. I’m a surrogate. I can’t fill out any of this paperwork.” The young woman looked confused and insisted that she had to fill them out because it was policy, and it required calling a supervisor to get the mess straightened out.

Kurt was mildly annoyed, since the reason that they had chosen the doctor and hospital they had was their experience in dealing with surrogacy situations. Aside from one midwife’s assumption that they were visiting friends, everything had gone smoothly with the boys. Now they were listening to the supervisor try to explain and excuse an uninformed and inexperienced volunteer, who was determined to follow hospital policy to the letter. “I’m sorry, sir, she didn’t know. We do have a different policy in place when dealing with surrogates, she just didn’t know it. When it’s not a surrogate situation, the mother is required to fill out the paperwork outside the presence of the father or anyone else other than hospital staff, to make sure she’s not coerced into putting something other than the truth on the paperwork.”

Kurt looked ready to make a cutting remark, but Blaine stepped in and said, “That’s fine; just, from now on, please cover the issue in training so that no one else has to deal with this. Can we please just fill out the paperwork so we can go see our daughter?” The woman handed over the sheaf of papers and retreated to the corner of the room.

Blaine looked at the forms and then at Kurt and said, “Um, Baby, what are we naming her? I mean, I know her middle name is Elizabeth, we agreed on that years ago, but what is her first name?” They had discussed various names, but nothing had seemed right. They thought they would have more time.

“What’s your Mom’s name? She has my mother’s middle name, so what about your mom?” Kurt asked.

“Margaret. We talked about it months ago, and we both agreed we really aren’t in love with it,” Blaine answered.

“But what is her full name?”

“Margaret Eleanor Anderson. Her maiden name was Philipino and people kept mispronouncing it so she dropped it.”

“What about Eleanor? Eleanor Elizabeth,” Kurt said.

Blaine smiled at him. “It’s perfect, although it’s a pretty big name for such a little girl.”

“We could call her Ellie,” Kurt suggested.

“I like it. Let’s fill out the forms,” Blaine told him.

As Kurt wrote Eleanor Elizabeth Hummel-Anderson into the space provided, he suddenly paused. “Oh, my God. She’s going to kill us. Her name, not counting spaces and punctuation, is thirty letters long.”

Blaine laughed. “If that’s the only thing she wants to kill us over, I think we’re going to be pretty lucky.”

* * *

As soon as the paperwork was filled out, they started to leave the room to see their daughter, but was stopped by a voice from the bed.

“Guys? Can I talk to you for just a minute?”

“Sure, Jess,” Blaine said.

“I’m really, really sorry about this. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before; if it had, I never would have passed the screening.”

“Jessica, we know it’s not your fault,” he assured her. Kurt had been telling her this since she was admitted.

“There’s nothing I can do about what happened, but there is still something I can do to help her. I don’t want to nurse her for two reasons. First and foremost, I don’t want to bond with her; she’s yours, not mine. Second, sometimes breast fed babies don’t like to take a bottle, and you two will have to be able to bottle feed her. But breast milk is the best thing for her, especially under the circumstances. I’ve pumped before, because I nursed my kids and I had to go back to work. I’d like to do that for you, for her. So if you’re okay with it, I’ll ask for a pump and get started. My milk should come in within a few hours. I’ll pump for a couple of months, and bring it to the NICU as long as she’s here, and then drop it off with you, or you can pick it up, after that. After the first few months, if she’s doing well, I’ll taper off, and you can gradually switch her over to formula.”

Kurt walked back to the bed and hugged her. “Thank you, so much.” He was blinking back tears, but was determined not to let them fall.

* * *

In the NICU, they were greeted by angry sounding squalls. They had scrubbed their hands as directed, and were now being guided to the far corner, in the direction of the sounds. Most of the NICU was dimly lit and quiet, the only sounds the soft beeping of monitoring equipment. A harried nurse looked at them and asked, “Are you the Hummel-Andersons?”

“Yes,” they responded in unison.

“You have a very unhappy young lady. On the up-side, her lungs are really healthy.”

“What’s wrong?” Kurt was imagining every possible problem he’d ever heard of, as well as pain.

“We monitor heart rates and oxygen levels on all the babies in the NICU. We do it with these sensors.” The nurse held up little discs with adhesive on one side and something that looked like a clamp; Kurt recognized them as miniature versions of the monitor leads his father had been attached to when he was in the hospital. “It seems your little one objects to them. Rather strenuously.”

“So she’s just mad?” Blaine asked, just to confirm that his interpretation of what the nurse said was correct.

“Pretty much.”

“Can we get closer? Can we touch her?” Kurt wanted to know.

“Yes.”

He walked closer to the isolette. “Hey, Ellie, Baby, you need to quit giving the nurses a hard time. It’s going to be okay. Daddy’s here, and so is Papa.” He touched her head gently, amazed at how tiny she was now that he was getting his first good look at her. Feeling his touch, she stopped crying; the look on her face, however, was anything but pleased.

Blaine burst out laughing. “She’s definitely yours. That is absolutely the Hummel bitch-glare, without a doubt.”

“Hush,” Kurt said.

“She’s all hooked up. Do you want to hold her?” The nurse asked.

“Can we?” Blaine asked.

“Yes. She’s pretty stable, unlike some of our kids. For the kids like her, the ones who are just moderately early and small, and are stable, being held is one of the best things for her. As much skin-to-skin contact as possible. It’s called kangaroo-care, and it helps preemies regulate their temperature, breathing and heart rate.”

“What do we need to do?” Kurt wanted to know.

“Pick a rocker or glider and sit down. Unbutton your shirt, and we’ll strip her to a diaper if she’s wearing anything, and lay her on your chest. Then you just hold her like that. We’ll drape a blanket over the two of you. When you’re not here, or not holding her, most of the rest of the time she’ll be swaddled; it makes newborns comfortable, because it mimics the closeness of the womb,” the nurse explained.

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who was generally not a fan of being shirtless in public. “Baby, could you pull that rocker up for me?” Kurt asked, nodding toward an old fashioned rocker a few feet away. Blaine pulled it close to the isolette and Kurt sat and promptly unbuttoned his shirt. The nurse handed Ellie to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, supporting under her bottom and across her back. She snuggled into her Daddy’s chest as the nurse draped a blanket over both of them. “Sorry, Sweetheart, Daddy hasn’t showered since, eew, the day before yesterday.” The baby didn’t seem to mind. He looked back at Blaine. “How about I take this shift. Go home, take a shower and a nap, see the boys, and let people know what’s going on. You can call my parents and Finn, that’s fine. Come back in a few hours and we’ll trade.”

* * *

Blaine bent to kiss them both before leaving. He caught a cab, and began calling people on the way back to the apartment. He showered, then went to Santana’s to explain to two very disappointed little boys that their sister had been born, but had to stay in the hospital for a while and they were not old enough to go into the special part of the hospital where she was. He showed them pictures he had taken on his phone. “She looks funny,” Patrick said. Ian nodded his agreement.

“She’s beautiful,” Blaine told them. Patrick looked at the picture again, then back at his Papa, then back to the picture, trying to see what Blaine saw. Finally, he shook his head.

“What would you guys say to hanging out with Auntie Tana and Auntie Brit another day, maybe go home tomorrow? Papa looks pretty tired, and I think he needs a nap,” Santana said to the boys. They nodded their assent. “Great. Go find Brianna and play.” Turning to Blaine, she said, “Don’t worry about them. We’ll work out something. You need to sleep, and I’m betting Kurt’s in no better shape than you. Have you eaten? Never mind, come to the kitchen and I’ll feed you before you go home to sleep.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows. Santana could cook, he knew that, but she didn’t do it all that often. He followed her to the kitchen, and laughed when he saw the peanut butter jar open. Santana’s back was to him as she fished for something in the refrigerator. “Grape or strawberry?” She called.

“Pick one. I’m too tired to care.”

“I found grape first,” she said. 

As he eased down onto a barstool at the breakfast bar, he told her, “I could have done that at home.”

“But I wouldn’t have known for sure that you’d eaten.” She pushed a sandwich across the bar. As he ate, she said, “You’re right, she really is beautiful, but she’s so tiny. I think I’d be afraid to hold her.”

“I kind of am, but Kurt seems fine with it. I guess I’ll learn.”

“You will. You’ll be great.”

* * *

At the hospital, Kurt was holding Ellie when a nurse approached him with a tiny bottle that looked more like a large vial or test tube than a bottle, with a little liquid in it. Looking closer, he could see it was labeled with Jessica’s name and Ellie’s. “Let’s see how she does with eating. At thirty-four weeks, she may not have a strong enough suck to handle this on her own, and if she doesn’t, we’ll insert a tube into her stomach. But she might be ready now.” The nurse showed Kurt how to hold her and how to make sure the milk didn’t flow too fast. Ellie’s eyes seemed to light up and she sucked hungrily until the bottle was empty. “Wow. She’s a champ. If she keeps this up we won’t be enjoying her company for very long. So far she’s doing well with her body temperature and heart rate, her oxygen sats are good, and it looks like eating won’t be a problem. She might go home a lot sooner than we thought.”

“When?” Kurt was both anxious to get her home, and nervous about the thought of managing her care without a medical team to back him up.

“Well, with preemies, we usually say we’re shooting for getting them home by their due dates, but a lot go home earlier. I think she’ll be one of the kids who leaves us early, but we have to make sure everything stays stable and she’s gaining weight, so I can’t say for sure. Let’s just wait and see how everything goes.”

“Hear that, Baby Girl? You have a chance to come home and meet your brothers early if you can just keep it up,” Kurt whispered to his daughter, who was drifting off to sleep again. Kurt napped with her.

* * *

Kurt was awoken by a gentle kiss. “Hey, Baby, my turn. You need to go home and get a few hours of sleep and a shower.”

“Not necessarily in that order,” Kurt said.

A nurse came over and told them Ellie needed a break. She told them when she would eat next, and suggested one of them come back then. Blaine looked a little heartbroken, but she said, “You’ll be spending plenty of time here. Take the break.”

“She’s going to be okay. Come on, we can have lunch and I’ll fill you in,” Kurt told him.

They walked to a small café near the hospital, and ordered soup and salads. Over lunch Kurt told Blaine about Ellie’s first meal, and the nurse’s prediction that she might get to go home early. Blaine filled Kurt in on the boy’s location and their reaction to the pictures of their new sister. Kurt was half annoyed, half amused by their reaction.

Soon Blaine headed back to the hospital; even if he couldn’t hold her yet, he could watch over his daughter. Kurt went home to bathe and rest.

In the NICU, Blaine watched Ellie sleep, marveling in how tiny, and yet how perfect, she was. He lost track of time, and was surprised when the nurse told him it was time for her to eat. The instructions Kurt had been given earlier were repeated, but Blaine began to panic, terrified of doing something wrong. The nurse placed the now fussing baby back into the isolette and worked to calm the nervous father. “She doesn’t want me to hold her; she’s crying,” he protested.

“She’s hungry. She’d let the devil himself hold her as long as there was a bottle involved,” the nurse informed him. “I’m right here. You’re going to be fine. I’ll make sure you’re doing everything right.”

Blaine took a deep breath and reached for the baby. The nurse placed the swaddled infant in his arms, and the moment he offered the bottle, she began to suck eagerly. His nerves faded as his daughter enjoyed her meal.

Once she was done, the nurse asked if he wanted to do Kangaroo care. He did, and she unwrapped Ellie while he opened his shirt. Soon, Ellie was curled on his chest and they were both covered in a blanket. He got his first hint of how strong she was when she grabbed a tiny fist full of chest hair and pulled it out. After recovering from the shock, he offered her his pinky; she latched onto it with a vise-like grip. He was still a little afraid of hurting her; surely something so small must be fragile. However, he gradually began to relax, starting to believe that maybe he really could do this.

* * *

The next few weeks settled into a routine. Kurt and Blaine split time at the hospital, trying to spend as much time as possible with their new daughter while still getting some work done. They ate meals together, catching up on what had happened in the NICU or at work that day. At least one of them saw the boys each day, although friends had apparently worked out a schedule to care for them that kept them busy most of the time. The boys were spending their time at an assortment of friends’ apartments, dance, design and recording studios, theaters, rehearsal halls, and, on at least one memorable occasion, one of Santana’s clubs. The nannies were almost not necessary, but were ready to fill in when needed. What they refused to do was disclose the identity of the person, or people, who kept the refrigerator and pantry stocked. When they were at the hospital, or at work, friends dropped by with meals. The two men were busy and tired, but well cared for. 

Ellie’s stay in the hospital remained blissfully uneventful, and after two and a half weeks, the staff announced she was ready to go home, having steadily gained weight after an initial drop, and having proven her ability to regulate the bodily functions that concerned the doctors. Her fathers were both exhilarated and terrified at the thought of taking her home.

Once at home, the two men, and as well as the boys, tried desperately to piece together how one tiny little girl could turn their lives upside down so fast. All four learned to recognize the bitch-glare, and to act fast to fix whatever had brought it on. 

Watching them run around trying to appease her, Santana laughed. “She’s going to be the most spoiled kid ever, first of all, and second, a word of advice, you can’t let a three-week-old run things.”

At her voice, Ellie turned her angry face toward the woman. Rushing in with a bottle, Kurt said, “My God, is that really what I look like when I’m angry?”

“Absolutely, Hummel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jessica’s test results and diagnosis are based on my own; many people have very different experiences with pre-eclampsia and toxemia. Thank you so much for sticking with the story this long, and for all your comments! Remember, if there's more you want to hear in this 'verse, I will take suggestions for Along the Road. Please, please comment and review. Next week, I will be traveling. I think I'll have internet access and will be able to get the chapter up on the usual schedule, but I can't guarantee it. I will get it up as soon as I can that day, or, barring that, the next day when I get home.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another short chapter, sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it anyway, and please, please leave comments. To make up for the length of this chapter I'm going to try to post another chapter in Along the Road today (which really should have been posted last week; again, sorry).

CHAPTER 16

Kurt realized two days before Thanksgiving that the holiday was fast approaching, and they had made no preparations. The rules he and Finn had set dictated that the holidays be celebrated in New York, but Finn and Quinn were not looking forward to traveling with a five-week-old, and Carole Ann had been battling bronchitis, so a few days after Ellie’s birth they had quietly agreed to celebrate separately, keeping in touch by phone. After that, the holiday had slipped his mind. After a quiet discussion with Blaine, they agreed to ignore it, confident that at not quite three, the boys wouldn’t remember the omission. Therefore, they were surprised when the intercom buzzed early Thanksgiving afternoon, announcing the arrival of a deliveryman with a full Thanksgiving dinner, complete with all the trimmings. There was no card or other information to identify the sender.

This was how their lives were going. A couple of times each week, groceries were delivered. Meals arrived either with friends or by pre-paid deliveries courtesy of anonymous benefactors. Friends whisked the boys away for play-dates, babysitting and sleepovers, and if either of them showed any signs of becoming ill, someone volunteered to take them in, with one of their fathers if necessary, to protect Ellie. Between the nannies and friends, both men were able to work at least part-time.

One evening over dinner, delivered and paid for by someone who chose to remain nameless, Kurt said, “Blaine, what would you think of me taking a break from theater? I can do most of my design work here, so I can be here for Ellie when you’re at work, but I can’t do that if I’m in rehearsals and then doing a show.”

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. I was hoping you’d decide to do that, but I didn’t want to push you.”

“I don’t want to give it up entirely. I was thinking maybe I’d go back after they tell us it’s safe for her to go out, and maybe do limited engagements. Maybe one six-month run a year?”

“Whatever you want to do. I wouldn’t mind at all if you decided to give it up entirely, but I think you’d miss it and eventually regret it. And there are several theater critics, not to mention your fans, who would cheerfully string me up for even suggesting the possibility. But you need to do what’s best for you, and for our family.”

* * *

Christmas was much the same. They managed to do some shopping, mostly for the children, and bought presents online for friends and family, thankful for the option to have things delivered. Someone saw to it that they had a Christmas dinner, for nine this time, since Kurt and Blaine’s parents were all in town, along with Cooper. They had all visited briefly shortly after Ellie’s birth, but had not come for Thanksgiving for various reasons. Kurt and Blaine were glad to see them, and the boys were thrilled.

Ian and Patrick tried hard to monopolize their grandparents and uncle, and explained everything that was wrong with their sister at length. None of it, of course, had to do with her size, prematurity, or possibly compromised immune system. She slept too much, cried too much, couldn’t use the potty, smelled funny and was no fun to play with. They greeted the news that all of these things would improve with time with the same skeptical looks they’d given Kurt and Blaine when they’d tried to explain. The only one who seemed to be able to give them hope was Cooper, who explained that their Papa was just as useless when he showed up, but that he got better.

“And it only took twenty years or so,” he joked.

“Hey!” Blaine protested.

“I gotta call ‘em like I see ‘em, Baby Bro,” was the response.

The only thing to mar the holiday was the fact that Burt was tired a lot and really didn’t look good to Kurt. He tried to talk to his father, who brushed it off. Carole wouldn’t answer questions about it, but she was clearly stressed as well. A call to Finn confirmed that the situation had been like that for a few weeks but that neither would discuss it with him either. Preoccupation with the children was the only thing that kept Kurt from demanding to know exactly what was going on.

* * *

Kurt was in Milan when the call came. Burt had had another heart attack. He had been ignoring symptoms of heart trouble and increased blood pressure for a few months; he had even skipped a physical, the first time he’d done so since his first heart attack when Kurt was a junior in high school. Carole had tried to get him to go to the doctor, but it had only resulted in fights. By the time they were able to reach Kurt, Burt had already had surgery to implant a stent and to open up the arteries supplying blood to his heart. Kurt wanted to rush home, but Finn assured him that everything was under control and there was nothing he could do. Burt would still be in the hospital when he returned home, and he could see him then.

Kurt managed to finish his schedule in Milan and Paris, and was on a plane to New York, with a connecting flight to Ohio, within hours of finishing his last scheduled event in Paris. At the hospital, he felt lost, alone, and helpless, a familiar feeling. It seemed to him it was just like the first time, and like the first time, he tried to push Finn and Carole away. The one critical difference was that Burt was conscious, and more than ready to tell Kurt not to shut his brother and mother out. Kurt started to argue that they weren’t his real brother and mother, when he realized he’d had Carole longer than his own mother, and Finn was the only brother he’d ever had. So instead, he lectured his dad about his diet, his exercise habits, ignoring warning signs of health issues, and anything else he could think of. Burt took all he could, and then told Kurt to shut up, which resulted in the dam breaking. Kurt started crying and all his fears of losing his father came pouring out. Burt, Finn, and Carole tried but were unable to calm him down. Ultimately, it took a phone call to Blaine, who had to stay in New York with the children because it was too risky to travel with Ellie, to get him to calm down slightly. After getting Kurt from near hysterics to merely weepy, Blaine asked to talk to Carole. After hanging up, she spoke to a doctor, and they attempted, unsuccessfully, to convince Kurt to take a sedative. Finally, stress and jet lag did the trick, and he fell into a chair and began to nod off.

“Finn, take your brother home before they have to put him in the next bed,” Burt ordered. “And don’t leave him alone.”

Finn nodded. “Sure thing, Dad.” He was aware Carole wouldn’t leave Burt alone at night; he’d already fought and lost that battle. He put his arm across Kurt’s back and heaved him into a standing position. “Come on, Bro. Let’s go home. Your nieces and older nephew want to climb on you anyway.”

Once at Finn’s place, he was settled onto a couch with a blanket and pillow, since Finn and Quinn didn’t have a guest room. He was awakened the next morning by his nieces and nephew, all of whom wanted to talk to him before going to school or day-care. Over breakfast, he was filled in. They hadn’t really told him before, because it didn’t seem necessary, but now his worry over Burt overdoing things made it essential to let him know what was going on. When Finn and Quinn began dating again, Finn was still filling in at the tire shop; Quinn often came to meet him there, and had fallen into the habit of helping with the office work at the shop. Now, in addition to her real estate and decorating businesses, she was running the business side of the tire shop in an effort to get Burt to slow down and decrease his stress level. Burt still worked at the shop, but the guys who worked for him were under strict orders from Quinn not to allow him to overdo it; they complied because they were much more afraid of Quinn than Burt, something Kurt couldn’t fault them for. Both Finn and Carole had tried to get Burt to see a doctor, improve his eating, exercise more, and worry less, but it had only resulted in arguments and seemed to increase his stress level. The same had happened when they had threatened to call Kurt. Kurt wasn’t at all pleased his father had hidden his condition from him, nor was he happy about his family’s complicit behavior, but he understood they were just trying to help.

What no one seemed to be able to get a handle on was why Burt’s stress level was increasing. The shop was doing well and turning a profit. Kurt was no longer bullied in any way, and in fact, was quite successful and happy with his life and relationship. All seven of Burt’s grandchildren were healthy and thriving. As far as anyone could tell, the sole point of stress in his relationship with Carole was concern over his health. Kurt vowed to get to the bottom of the issue and find out the reason behind the stress.

That afternoon, he went to the hospital. The doctor was in with his father, but Burt motioned for Kurt to come in. They were discussing sending Burt home within the next few days. Kurt remained quiet until the doctor left, then said, “Dad, I know you want to go home, but until you decide to make some changes, you might as well stay here. That way when you have the next heart attack help will be close by.”

Burt sighed. “Fine. I’ll start following those diets you and Carole figured out for me.” Kurt merely raised his eyebrows. “And I’ll start walking again.” Kurt continued to look at him silently. “And go back to getting checkups. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“Your stress level needs to come down. No one’s sure why it’s up in the first place. Quinn’s taken over the most stressful part of the shop, I’m fine, Finn’s fine, all the grandchildren and your son and daughter-in-law are fine, and as far as anyone can tell, you and Carole are fine. The legislation you worked for is still going strong, and your friends in Washington are still pushing forward, making even more progress for equality for everyone and for funding for the arts in education and for education in general, even though you’ve retired from Congress. What’s up?”

“I’m sixty.”

“Yes, I’m aware. We celebrated, remember?”

“Your grandfather . . . .”

“What about Grandpa?”

“He was sixty when he died. You probably don’t remember. You were just a kid.”

“Dad, I was six. I don’t remember a lot, but I remember some. I loved him, but let’s face it: he didn’t have the healthiest lifestyle. His diet consisted of starch and grease. He did no real exercise and thought the TV remote was the greatest invention in the history of mankind. He was overweight, and he smoked, at least some, I remember the smell. And I also remember you and Grandma talking about how he never went to the doctor. Let’s look at how your life is different. You don’t smoke, never have. Your diet isn’t what it should be, but it’s better than his was, and you have time to make improvements. Your weight is good, and you can start working on the exercise again; you were pretty good there for a while, I guess I have Washington traffic issues to thank for that. And you had been good about going to the doctor, until recently. Most of the changes that are putting your life in danger are recent, and those combined with stress will kill you. You can’t stop taking care of yourself because you’re afraid you’re going to die; if you do it’ll become a self-fulfilling prophesy. Stop thinking about how he died at your age and start working to prevent the same thing happening to you.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Hey, I don’t care if you are all grown up, don’t go getting smart with me. And Kurt, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and again, please leave comments. I really do read them all, and I try to respond to each one, although it may take me a few days, depending on how life is going (and today, how horrible the internet connection is . . . it keeps crashing).


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a filler; it deals with a few things, but mostly sets the stage for things that occur later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter. Sorry about that. There will be a several shorter chapters, and then they will get much longer towards the end of the story. Thanks for reading.

CHAPTER 17

It took several months, but they were beginning to settle in, and rely on friends less. They were able to work, shop and do most basic chores with no more help than they’d had before Ellie’s birth, but they realized they were naïve to think that adding a baby into a family with pre-school aged twins would be simple. They developed routines so they could spend time with the boys outside the apartment at times, while someone stayed with Ellie. They learned that nannies and friends could handle her, and that while she might prefer to have one or both of her fathers, she would survive. Things were going smoothly, until a fateful doctor’s appointment.

Ellie was at her six month check-up. Everything seemed fine, and so Kurt and Blaine were a little surprised when the doctor asked to speak to them. “Well, Ellie is doing quite well. She’s basically caught up developmentally with other babies her age, so we no longer have to take her prematurity into account as much. She’s still quite small for her age, but she is growing and gaining weight steadily; I think she’s just going to be a petite young lady.” So far, everything the doctor was saying sounded good. They looked at each other, waiting for the other shoe to fall. “RSV season is officially over, so you can start taking her out, going to public places, that sort of thing.”

“You mean, like shopping?” Kurt couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Sure. Shopping, out to eat, parks, playgrounds. Wherever you want. And she doesn’t need the vaccine anymore; she’s actually gained enough weight that she won’t need it at all next year, and won’t need to stay away from public places.”

“I don’t know . . . .” Blaine was a bit hesitant, and looking at Kurt, he knew that Kurt was even more uncertain.

“She’ll be fine.” The doctor assured them.

At home, nothing changed. Although they didn’t discuss it, there was an unspoken agreement between the two that it was too soon; Ellie was simply not ready.

A few weeks later, Santana asked when Ellie would be allowed to go out. Brianna wanted to play with the boys, and she thought it would be fun for both families to spend the following Sunday evening in Central Park, followed by dinner out together. Blaine and Kurt exchanged a glance, but before they could protest, Santana caught it and demanded, “Okay. Something’s up. Spill.”

Looking helplessly at Kurt, Blaine said, “The doctor gave us the all-clear a few weeks ago, but we’re both still a little scared of what might happen.”

“Uh-huh. So, Brit and I will be seeing all five of you in the park around sixish, the playground on the south side.”

“But, we can’t! What about Ellie?” Kurt protested.

“She’ll be fine, Hummel. See you then.” Santana swept out of the apartment, leaving no room for further argument.

The following Sunday, they carefully packed a diaper bag and bundled Ellie into her stroller. They met the Lopez-Pierce’s at the appointed place and time, but within a few minutes, Kurt was panicking and ready to head home. “She’s beet red and she has a fever,” he insisted. “I knew this would happen. It’s the first time she’s been out and she’s already sick.”

“She’s hot. Give her here.” Santana reached for the stroller. She pulled away two blankets, and stripped the baby of a jacket and two sweaters. Underneath was a long sleeve shirt and pants. “Good Lord, Porcelain, no wonder she’s dying.” She dug in the diaper bag until she found a sundress. Pulling off the pants and shirt, she quickly redressed Ellie in the sundress. Pulling baby sunscreen from her own bag, she rubbed a generous covering into Ellie’s skin. 

“She’ll get cold!” Kurt protested.

“Not until the sun goes down, at the earliest, and then we can put a sweater on her,” Santana told him.

Once out of the stroller, and freed of the heavy clothing, Ellie began to enjoy herself. While Santana, Kurt and Blaine watched the older children, Brittany wandered around with Ellie, showing her things. She’d always been amazingly good with children; Blaine wondered if it was because she was so child-like herself. After an hour, the older children began to bicker, and Ellie began to yawn. The adults recognized the signs that it was time to leave.

The headed out of the park and found a relatively kid-friendly café. Sitting at a table out on the sidewalk, Kurt pulled a bottle of formula from the insulated compartment of the diaper bag, and the other adults helped the kids figure out what to order. Dinner went smoothly, with Ellie sleeping through most of it, and afterwards Kurt and Blaine helped hail a cab for the Lopez-Pierce’s before walking home.

Once they got home, however, Kurt couldn’t stop checking Ellie for signs of illness. He stayed home for the next several days, sure that she was about to become seriously ill and would need him. He put the pediatrician and hospital, as well as 9-1-1, on speed-dial. Nearly a week later, nothing had happened other than Kurt managing to irritate everyone else in the house.

“Baby, I really think she’s going to be fine,” Blaine finally said.

“I guess,” Kurt said doubtfully.

Despite his concerns, however, Ellie was fine. Her first illness of any sort came when she was nearly a year old. Kurt panicked and rushed her to the doctor, who told him she had a cold. He left with instructions on how to clear her nose to make her more comfortable and an order to purchase a humidifier for her room. Other than typical childhood illnesses such as that, she insisted on remaining ridiculously healthy, no matter how much Kurt worried.

* * *

“Hey, Hummel, you’ve got to help me out. I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Puck’s voice came over the phone, sounding slightly panicky.

Kurt was instantly concerned; very little panicked Puck, and even less would have him admitting to not knowing how to handle a situation. “Calm down, Puck. Where are you?”

“The baby store, you know, the one you registered at that’s closest to your place?” Puck and Lauren had, after several years in California, moved to New York the previous fall when Lauren got a job with NBC. Puck had sold several screenplays, and more than a few of them had been successfully produced, so he was in enough demand that he no longer felt the need to stay near L.A. for the contacts, and even though Lauren was still doing freelance work for some production houses in California, she could do most of it from New York.

“What are you doing there?”

“Are you going to come help me or not? Because if you’re not going to come, I need to call Santana and she’ll laugh at me but I need someone.”

“Okay, I’m coming; the nanny should be here in five minutes and I’ll leave then.”

Arriving at the baby store, Kurt found a very bewildered Puck staring at the massive array of baby gear and supplies. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”

“The agency called.” The answer seemed to make perfect sense to Puck, but Kurt was still in the dark.

“Excuse me?”

“We registered to adopt a baby from China. We didn’t tell anyone because it’s not a sure thing, and we registered two and a half years ago and we were all set but then we moved and they insisted on doing the home study and everything else all over again, and we were beginning to think we’d never get a baby but they called and we leave at the end of the week to go get her and we don’t have anything and Lauren’s packing and sent me to get what we need and what we have to take and I just don’t know what to buy.” Puck was rapidly working himself into a panic, and Kurt was concerned he was going to pass out just from lack of oxygen since he wasn’t pausing for breath.

“Breathe, Puck. We will make sure we have what you need to bring her home. What do you mean what you need to take?”

“We need clothes and supplies and a car seat and stuff, and they said it’s customary for the adoptive parents to bring a gift to the orphanage, things they can use for the babies who are still there.”

“That makes sense. How old is she? And can I call Blaine to help?”

“What? Sure. She’s six months old. They also sent an email,” Puck said, fishing in his pocket for his phone. Pulling up the email, he proudly showed Kurt a slightly blurry, badly lit picture of a chubby baby girl with a head full of black hair.

“She’s beautiful. I can’t wait to meet her. She and Ellie can be friends. Brianna’s about the same age as the boys, and so is Sam and Mercedes’ oldest, Tyler, although they live back in Ohio. I guess Brandon is her age, almost exactly, but of course he’s back in Ohio too; providing my daughter with a playmate wasn’t enough to get Finn and Quinn to pull up stakes and move to New York. What are you naming her?” While he was talking, he was also texting Blaine. He got a quick reply, and they began to browse the shelves while they waited for Blaine.

“Caroline Jade.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I miss him, you know,” Puck said.

“Huh?” Kurt was confused.

“Finn. Quinn too. I always figured I’d never settle down, but if I did I thought I’d be doing this stuff with them, not you, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“But I understand, I guess. Ohio’s always been home for him, and after everything that happened here, I don’t think I’d want to be here either. For Lauren and I, kind of like for you and Blaine, this place is about opportunity and the future and the families we’re making, but for him, it was never about his opportunities, and it holds nothing but failure and heartbreak. The only good things to come out of New York for him were Stephen and Carole Ann, and he still has them in Ohio.” 

Kurt shook his head, wondering when Puck had gotten so perceptive. Blaine finally arrived, and the three men spent time picking out clothes from preemie size to one year, along with diapers, wipes, toys, baby furniture, and other necessary items. Kurt explained to Puck that they should leave all the clothes that were too small for Caroline at the orphanage, along with most of the diapers, wipes, supplies and toys, and bring back only what they needed to have on the trip home. When asked what they would do when they got home if they gave everything away, Kurt just looked at Blaine and smiled. Puck caught on, and smiled back.

* * *

When Puck and Lauren returned a week and a half later, Kurt met them at the airport to bring them home. Lauren spoke up from her place beside Caroline in the back of the car when she noticed they weren’t going in the right direction. Kurt told her he had an errand to run on the way, smiling at Puck, who smiled back. They pulled up outside a restaurant, and Puck helped Lauren get Caroline out, waiving at Kurt who pulled away to park. Once Kurt returned, they walked inside, only to find most of their friends, going all the way back to high school, many of them with children in tow, and piles of presents. By the time Kurt and Blaine were really ready to take them home, it took both cars to fit not only the four adults and four children, but all the presents, and Puck and Lauren were fully equipped to deal with the new addition to their family.

* * *

Kurt came home one afternoon to find Blaine with one preschooler under each arm, trying to hit each other, while Ellie cried from her crib. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“We need a bigger apartment. We need more bedrooms,” Blaine said. “They each need separate corners, and their own space.”

“Are you sure? I mean, we can work it out if we try, can’t we?” Kurt tried. However, one look at Blaine’s exhausted, frustrated face, and Kurt knew any argument would be futile. Sighing, he looked up the name of the real estate agent they had used when they found their current apartment.

Within months, they had moved, for the last time.

* * *

The differences between Ellie and her brothers were startling. Like them, she did look as though Kurt and Blaine had managed to combine their DNA: she remained diminutive, with Kurt’s slender build, and she had Kurt’s coloring, but her chestnut hair tumbled down her back in a mass of curls. The boys were open and outgoing, like Blaine, while Ellie was much more reserved. While Ian was focused on how things sounded and Patrick on how things looked, Ellie was interested in words, written and spoken, and analyzed everything, accepting nothing at face value. The boys were both pretty relaxed and tended to go with the flow; Ellie was quick to anger, and was not afraid to let everyone know when she was unhappy, her bitch-glare becoming more and more like her Daddy’s over time. Kurt and Blaine didn’t expect her to be the same as her brothers, but it often seemed as if she was an entirely different animal.

It was sometimes difficult to balance the needs of three such different children, with the desire for family harmony sometimes coming into conflict with what was best for one or more of them. Kurt and Blaine regularly incurred Ellie’s wrath by refusing to let her boss her brothers around, and she spent more than a few spells in time out when she attempted to issue orders to her fathers. While the boys were happy to war with each other, they lived in fear of making their little sister angry. Kurt and Blaine, however, learned to set limits, and to recognize Ellie’s need for control. They allowed her freedom over some areas, such as how her room was arranged, but refused to let her control every aspect of the family’s life. On the other hand, the boys didn’t care about control, except within their areas of interest. It was a constant juggling act, and while the two fathers often felt as though they were constantly dropping balls, everyone who knew them marveled at how well they kept everything in the air.

One place that all three children loved was the theater. Patrick was fascinated by the sets and costumes, and how to create them. Ian loved the music; on the rare occasions they went to see non-musical plays, he tended to fall asleep, but if music was at all involved, he was entranced. Ellie loved the stories, and liked to pick them apart and discuss what would have happened had one thing or another been different. As a result, Kurt and Blaine took them to see any musical that was even vaguely child-appropriate. Kurt loved the fact the children were so excited by something that was such a huge part of their parents’ lives. Blaine knew how hard the business could be, and though he and Kurt had found enormous success in the industry, he worried for his children if they chose to follow in their footsteps. However, his worry couldn’t stop him from sharing his passion with his children, and enjoying the childlike delight in Kurt’s eyes as he watched his children at each new show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you so much for reading. Please, please comment, and let me know what you think. Also, if there are things you want to hear about, or you want something in more detail, let me know. I will consider it for a chapter of Along the Road. I've either written or plan to write every suggestion I've been given so far, other than one (and the only reason I probably won't do that one is it's inconsistent with ITJ, but if I can find a way to write the request that isn't inconsistent, I will write it too). Thanks again for taking the time to read and take this journey with our boys!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: (Minor) character death. 
> 
> I'm sorry this is another short chapter. I promise they will get a lot longer towards the end. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Please comment; I love to know what you're thinking, and I promise to respond, even though it may take me a few days (and yes, I am still going to respond to the ones from last week; this has been a hectic week).
> 
> Finally, I am traveling, so I hope everyone who has been reading this will find it even though I think it's going up at a weird time.

CHAPTER 18

Burt’s health had improved, and he tried to follow the doctor’s instructions most of the time. For a time Kurt thought everything would be okay, but only a couple of years after the heart attack when Ellie was just a few months old, he received another call. This time, Burt had suffered a mild stroke. Again, he flew to Ohio to be with his father, this time bringing Blaine and the children. The doctors were unsure what had caused it, but both they and Burt assured Kurt that he had been behaving, and would almost certainly make a full recovery. Eventually, they managed to convince him, and since Burt seemed stable, Kurt took his family and went home.

The process was repeated for heart attacks and strokes of varying severity over the next several years. Despite efforts by Kurt, Carole, Finn, Quinn, Burt’s doctors, and even Burt himself, it was clear Burt’s health was deteriorating. Kurt sometimes tried to mentally prepare himself for the day he would lose Burt, but his efforts generally led to a night of him crying himself to sleep while Blaine tried to calm him, unsure of what to say to prepare him or make the unimaginable seem survivable.

When his phone rang unexpectedly one Sunday morning as he made brunch, Kurt steeled himself. No one called them at this time of day on a Sunday. Kurt looked at the display, expecting it to be Finn or Carole calling to tell him his father was ill again, or that something even worse had happened. Instead, he saw Cooper’s face when he picked up the phone. He smiled. Cooper was probably in love again, or maybe getting another divorce; Kurt was trying to remember if he was married right now or not. Hitting the button to accept the call, he said, “Hey, Coop, what’s up?”

He was unprepared for what he heard. “Kurt, are you with Blaine?” Cooper’s voice was broken and it was clear he’d been crying.

“Um, he’s upstairs playing with the kids while I make brunch. Why? Didn’t he answer his phone?”

“I haven’t called him. I didn’t want him to be alone when he found out.”

“Found out what, Cooper?” Kurt really didn’t like the way this conversation was going.

“Dad’s gone.”

“Gone?” Kurt was trying to figure out what Cooper meant. He couldn’t imagine Richard Anderson leaving his wife and family; he was the picture of responsibility, and the idea of him starting over somewhere at the age of seventy-five, given the life he was accustomed to, was preposterous.

“I came home a week ago, because my wife found out about my girlfriend and filed for divorce, and then my girlfriend left me, so it seemed best to take a break from California. I was really enjoying spending time with Mom and Dad. Dad and I were playing tennis at the club this morning and he was beating my ass, as usual, and then he just collapsed. I thought maybe he’d turned his ankle or something, but he was so still. I ran over and he wasn’t breathing and I called for help and tried to do CPR, but when we got to the hospital they took him in a room and came out a little later and said there was nothing they could do.”

“Oh, Jesus. I’ll tell Blaine. Let me know what we can do when I call back. I’ll make arrangements to fly out as soon as I finish telling him.”

“Thank you,” Cooper said. Kurt knew Cooper needed someone to take care of him, and hoped someone was with him, and with his mother, but right now Blaine had to be his first priority.

Upstairs, he said, “Kids, I need to talk to Papa for a few minutes, alone.”

Ellie opened her mouth to ask why, but one look at Kurt silenced her.

Kurt walked Blaine downstairs to their bedroom, and sat him down on the bed. Blaine was beginning to get scared. “What’s wrong, Kurt? Is it your dad? Oh, no, did he . . . ?”

Kurt shook his head. This was going to be harder than he’d ever imagined. “No, Baby, it’s not my Dad.” Blaine sighed in relief and Kurt felt as though an icy grip was closing on his heart. He swallowed hard and said, “It’s yours.”

“What? No, my dad’s fine. I talked to him a couple of days ago. Cooper’s home, and we were debating if we should try to go there before he left or if it would be better for them to come here for a couple of days . . . .”

“Cooper called a couple of minutes ago. He didn’t want you to be alone when you found out.”

“I’m going to kill him. This is a really stupid, cruel joke,” Blaine said angrily.

“Baby, it’s not a joke. He was playing tennis with Cooper this morning and collapsed on the court. By the time they made it to the hospital there was nothing they could do.” 

Blaine shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. Kurt gathered him into his arms and rocked him. Looking up, he saw Patrick peeking into the room. Kurt shook his head and Patrick retreated.

Nearly an hour later, Blaine had cried himself out. He wasn’t talking, just staring into nothingness. Kurt laid him down on the bed and drew the covers over him. Gently kissing his forehead, he whispered, “I’ll be back. I’m just going to check on the kids.” Blaine didn’t respond.

Leaving the room, he discovered Patrick had taken over in the kitchen and finished brunch, and the children had all eaten. Patrick and Ian were subdued and quiet; they knew something was very wrong, but they had no idea what. Ellie was straightforward; she had to know what was going on. “Daddy? What’s wrong with Papa?”

How he was supposed to tell his children their grandfather had died, Kurt had no idea. “Kids, it’s Poppy. He was playing tennis with Uncle Cooper and something happened and he passed away. Papa’s very sad, I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

Ian looked devastated. Patrick said, “I’ll go sit with Papa.”

“No,” Ellie protested, as if refusing to believe it could change the fact that her grandfather was gone. Maybe, in her ten year old mind, it would. “Did he go to the hospital? What did the doctor say?”

“Ellie, Sweetheart, your Uncle called for help and they took Poppy to the hospital, but by the time he got there he was already gone. There was nothing the doctors could do.”

Ellie shook her head and ran upstairs. Kurt looked over at Ian, who was leaning against the counter shaking. He crossed the kitchen and gathered his son into his arms, and the floodgates opened; they held each other and cried until they couldn’t cry anymore.

Eventually, cried out, Kurt told Ian to find his siblings and tell them to pack, for at least a week. He got on the computer and booked the tickets, and by late afternoon, they were boarding a plane for Ohio.

Kurt still didn’t know what to say to Blaine; he hoped Cooper would have some answers. Blaine and his father had never been quite as close as he and his dad were, but they had a good relationship. Yes, it had been strained for a few years after Blaine had come out, when Richard’s belated attempts at male bonding and interesting Blaine in ‘masculine’ pursuits, in what Blaine still saw as an attempt to make him straight, had fallen flat, but once Richard fully accepted Blaine they had become much closer. Kurt had no idea what the right amount of time to have with your father before having to bury him was, but he knew that Blaine had not had enough.

Once in Ohio, Kurt helped Cooper and Margaret plan the funeral. Blaine still seemed too grief stricken to do anything. “Why, Cooper? You were closer to your dad, and yet you seem more able to handle it,” Kurt said. Maybe if he could figure this out, he would know how to help Blaine.

“Maybe that’s why. Dad and I were always close, and that didn’t change when Blaine came along. I don’t think Blaine ever felt like he was what Dad wanted, but he desperately wanted to be, although at the same time he was too strong to change to be whatever it was he thought Dad wanted. The kicker is that in so many ways he was more of what Dad wanted. He was smarter, a better student, he got the business degree, he could have gone to law school if he’d wanted. Dad would have been thrilled, but Blaine would have been miserable, and he had the balls to tell Dad that. I would have gone just to make Dad happy, even though it’s no more my thing than Blaine’s, but no law school in the country would have me, not with my grades. I work steadily, and I could live off what I make if I had to, but I like my trust fund lifestyle much better than what I can afford on my own, and God knows I’m hardly a ‘star.’ You and Blaine, you’re so successful, and you live off your own income – don’t think I don’t know that the only time Blaine’s trust fund was ever touched was when you bought property and when you used surrogates to have the kids. Oh, and you had kids; Dad was so proud of that. The only two strikes against him were that I was there first, and he was gay. Dad got over the second one, and I don’t think he even realized what an impediment I was to their relationship; I know Blaine saw it, but I don’t think Dad did. God, I’m so tired. Does any of what I just said make any sense?”

Kurt nodded. He wasn’t sure it got him any closer to an answer, but it gave him at least some insight. He helped Blaine make it through the funeral, and the reading of the will, which told them that they inherited more money they really didn’t need, that their children now had trust funds of their own, and that they now owned a vacation home on Cape Cod. He and Cooper helped resolve business at Richard’s law firm, with the help of the partners, forcing Blaine to help with at least some of the financial matters, since of the three he was the only one with any formal business training. At last, everything was done, and they were preparing to leave the next day. Kurt spoke quietly to Cooper, and then took Margaret and the children out to eat, leaving Blaine and Cooper together. 

When he returned, the two brothers were in their father’s study, talking. A glimpse through the slightly opened door told him they’d both been crying at some point, but weren’t now. He got the kids to bed, then went to Blaine’s old room, where they were staying, to wait. He fell asleep before Blaine came in, but found himself wrapped in Blaine’s arms when he woke up. He worked himself free carefully, trying to let Blaine sleep as long as possible. Going downstairs, he discovered the children up, eating breakfast. There was an envelope on the table with his name on it in Cooper’s handwriting. Inside was a note: I think the talk helped. I hope so at least. Tell me if he needs me again. Cooper. When he woke up, Blaine seemed to be doing somewhat better; at least he no longer seemed to be alternating between crying and being virtually catatonic.

“Baby, if you need to talk, I’m here,” Kurt told him. He didn’t ask what Blaine had talked about with Cooper the night before.

“Me, too,” Cooper said, coming into the kitchen and heading straight for the espresso machine. “Well, not here, here, but all you have to do is pick up the phone. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing. Tell whoever picks up my phone it’s a family emergency, even if all you need to do is vent or rant. I’ll listen, talk, whatever you need.” He squeezed Blaine’s shoulder.

“Stay monogamous?” Blaine quipped.

“That’s asking a lot,” Cooper muttered.

“Mmm. Doesn’t seem that hard to me,” Blaine replied, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “Fortunately, I don’t really need you to do that.”

“Good,” Cooper said.

They drove to the airport after an early lunch. Kurt never learned what had been discussed, but he was glad the brothers had talked. It seemed to help Blaine heal, both from whatever issues had existed in his relationship with his father, and from the sometimes stormy relationship he still had with his older brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me! And please leave comments! Thanks again for reading.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little lighter this time, and Santana to the rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and please, please leave comments!

CHAPTER 19

The next couple of years provided a respite, of sorts. Burt had no serious health issues. The children’s health issues were related mostly to sports injuries. Blaine and Kurt had both cut down their performance schedule, doing only one or two limited engagement shows each year, although Blaine was still choreographing most of his own shows, and Kurt still danced when he wasn’t performing just to avoid getting rusty. The change allowed them to spend more time with the kids and with each other, and they were glad.

Compared to some of their friends’ children, theirs were pretty calm and didn’t seem very rebellious. All in all, most of their close friends had fared pretty well. Stephen’s greatest act of rebellion had been to take Quinn’s car and drive it to school to impress a girl; unfortunately, he didn’t have a license and ended up wrecking it while trying to turn into the parking lot, and since his father worked at the school, he had no hope of hiding it, even temporarily. Amelia had cut her hair like an eighties era punk rocker, complete with pink stripe, and dated a boy Santana didn’t like; that lasted until he tried to pressure her to have sex, and her response was to punch him in the jaw. Kurt and Blaine found out when Santana called to thank Blaine for having taught Amelia how to box. Tina and Mike’s three children reacted to their parents multiple divorces and remarriages (always to each other), by becoming deeply involved in church, something neither of their parents had ever been very committed to. Kitty and Artie’s daughter dove head-first into academia and classical music, never giving anyone else a shot at valedictorian or first chair cello, completely rejecting cheerleading, movies, and other things that had been important to her parents in high school; their son, on the other hand, auditioned for teen movies with little redeeming artistic value. One of Sam and Mercedes’ daughters insisted on attending a different church than her parents, another worked to become a model, and their son displayed no interest in school work, sports, singing or the arts of any kind, instead hanging around Hummel Tire and Lube and learning all he could about cars. Patrick’s act of rebellion was to refuse music lessons other than piano, and to constantly remind his parents that left to his own devices he wouldn’t even play that. Ian’s was to focus on hard rock, rejecting the pop and show tunes his fathers loved. At only thirteen, Ellie hadn’t really found a way to be a rebellious teenager, although she had rebelled against anything she didn’t like since birth, in any way she could think of, but they were generally small rebellions: refusing to eat something, yelling, talking back, refusing to be quiet during someone else’s lessons. Kurt and Blaine had, on more than one occasion, congratulated themselves and their friends on how well they were tackling the sometimes daunting job of raising children in the modern world.

They were therefore unprepared when they were about to leave to go out to dinner one evening and Ian announced, “Ellie isn’t coming.”

Kurt was annoyed. They were already slightly late. “What do you mean she isn’t coming?”

“She says she’s not coming,” Ian said slowly, as if his father was slightly daft.

Kurt stormed up the stairs as Ian yelled up, “She’s locked in her bathroom.”

Entering his daughter’s room without knocking, he crossed to her bathroom door. He tried the knob, but Ian was correct: it was locked. “Ellie, we’re late. This isn’t funny. Get downstairs, now.”

“Get Auntie Tana,” Was her response.

“Why? What’s going on?” This wasn’t like Ellie. Defiance, maybe yelling, but not this.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just call her.” 

Kurt saw his daughter’s phone on her nightstand, and guessed she would have called herself if she’d had it with her. So something she wasn’t anticipating happened, something she wouldn’t talk about, at least not to him. And something that caused her to refuse to leave the bathroom. He just couldn’t figure out what it might be. “If you won’t talk to me about whatever it is, will you talk to Papa?”

“No! Call Auntie Tana!”

Kurt gave up, and called Santana. She was at work, but promised to come over immediately. She arrived less than an hour later, carrying a tote bag. “I have no idea what’s going on,” Kurt told her.

“I think I do,” She said, knocking on the door. “Ellie, Sweetie, it’s Auntie Tana. Open up.” The door quietly clicked and Santana turned to Kurt, saying, “Scram for a few minutes. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

“How can you know?” Kurt asked. Santana just gave him a glare. He turned and left, going down to wait with Blaine and the boys.

Five minutes later, Santana motioned to the two men and pointed to the kitchen. “First of all, Ellie’s fine.”

“What’s going on?” Kurt had to know.

“She got her period, you idiot. It was exactly what I thought.”

“Why would you guess that, of all things?”

“Um, she’s the right age, and I’ve been through this twice before, remember?”

“Oh,” Blaine said.

“Yeah, oh. So while we’re at it, you do know that top-flight private school you send her to has no sex-ed, and hasn’t even discussed puberty with the kids? And why haven’t you talked to her about what was going to happen?”

Both men blushed. “I guess I thought we’d have time,” Blaine said.

“And I’m not really completely up on what happens when, and . . . it’s hard, being a guy, trying to talk about that,” Kurt told her. Blaine nodded.

“Right, Moron, and it wasn’t hard on her, not knowing what was going on? She’d heard some from friends but she wasn’t sure what to expect or if what she’d heard was true or not. You two have a daughter. It’s your job to educate yourselves so you can prepare her. I’m taking her with me, she’s going to spend a girls’ weekend at our place.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kurt protested.

“And don’t you have to go back to work?” Blaine asked.

“She’s already packing. We’re going to have a talk about puberty and women’s bodies, and boys and their bodies. And we’re going to have the talk. And I expect you to have the talk with her again after she gets back, and soon. You should take this weekend to discuss it with the boys if you haven’t already. And yes, I have to go back to work; she’s going with me.” Santana explained her plans.

“You can’t take our daughter to a gay bar!” Kurt argued.

“And she’s too young,” Blaine said.

“First of all, tonight I’m working at Mix; it’s pretty open, and predominantly straight. Remember, seven clubs now? Second, she’ll do the same thing Amelia and Brianna do when they come to work with me: hang out in the office, which is where I am the majority of the time. I only go to the floor once or twice a night, sometimes not at all, and never for more than a few minutes, unless I’m going to party. I hire very competent management and security, and provide free water, coffee, tea and soft drinks for New York’s finest. It’s pretty rare for me to need to be on the floor.” Santana wasn’t backing down. “And, finally, she’s not too young. She’s pretty and she could get pregnant. Brit was only thirteen when she lost her virginity to some perv at cheer camp; she’s just lucky she didn’t get pregnant or get an STD. Ellie needs to know.”

The men had lost, and they knew it. They also had to admit that Santana was right, at least as far as Ellie needing to be educated went.

* * *

Their dinner plans cancelled, they ordered pizza for themselves and the boys. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Kurt said, “I think I need to call my dad.”

“Why?” Blaine was concerned.

“He gave me the best version of the talk I’ve ever heard of, and as much as I hate to admit it, Satan’s right, we need to talk to the boys.”

“You do know your dad gave you the talk because I pushed him to do it, right?”

“Yeah. And thank you. I don’t know. This is just so hard to talk about, and I can’t help thinking that if either of them was gay it might be easier. At least we’d know what we were talking about first hand. I’ve always known I was gay and I’ve never been even remotely attracted to girls, and other than your drunken kiss and the subsequent sober one with Rachel you’ve never been attracted to them or experimented with them.”

“Don’t remind me. And I only kissed her the first time because we were playing spin the bottle.” Blaine laughed. “We could take a page from your dad’s book and go get them some pamphlets.”

“Oh, God, don’t remind me. I was so horrified when he handed me those.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it would be any easier if they were gay,” Blaine said. “I think it’s just one of those things that’s supposed to be hard on everyone involved.”

“I’m still not sure about that. Think this might be the thing that prompts at least one of them to come out of the closet?”

Blaine sighed. “The other night they were watching women’s beach volleyball on TV. Based on the conversation going on, I’m pretty sure they weren’t interested in the score or strategy, at least not any that had anything to do with the game, so somehow I don’t think so.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the pizza. Calling the boys into the dining room, they all sat down to eat.

Looking at Kurt, who nodded, Blaine started. He didn’t want to be like his dad, who had never had this talk with him because he was uncomfortable with Blaine’s sexuality, and the fact that it was different from his own. He also wanted to do a better job than his dad had done with Cooper, who told him his dad basically covered protecting oneself from disease and unwanted pregnancy, along with basic mechanics, but nothing else. “Boys, we need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Ian asked around a mouthful of pizza. “Hey, leave some pepperoni for me, Patrick. I’m not getting stuck with nothing but Dad’s veggie special.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ian,” Kurt said. This was not going the way he’d envisioned.

Swallowing, Ian said, “You wanted to talk to us about talking with food in our mouths?”

Kurt buried his face in his hands. “Shut up, Ian,” Patrick said, taking two pieces of the coveted pepperoni pizza.

“If we’re talking about table manners, can you tell him not to tell me to shut up?” Ian asked.

“We want to talk to you about sex,” Blaine said, raising his voice slightly.

Both boys stopped chewing. After a moment of tense silence Patrick managed to swallow. “Um, what about it?” Patrick asked.

“Any chance either of you are gay? Because, you know, it’s really okay if you are and it might be a little easier . . . .” Kurt trailed off.

The brothers exchanged a look and shook their heads. “We have different types,” Ian said, “But we both like girls. Why?”

“No reason,” Kurt said.

“I like blondes, tall, busty ones,” Ian enthused.

“And I like brunettes and red heads, how well-endowed they are physically doesn’t matter to me, but they need to be smart. Like Ellie, only not my sister, older, and a lot less mean.”

“She’s only mean because she’s your sister,” Blaine said, “She’s not like that with everyone else.”

“Ha,” Ian countered, “As long as you don’t piss her off.”

“Can we please get back on topic?” Kurt asked.

“Where is Ellie anyway?” Patrick wanted to know.

“With Aunt Santana,” Kurt told him.

“What, did she get her period or something?” Ian asked.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look. “I knew it!” Patrick crowed. “You owe me five bucks, Ian. Told you she was bitchier than normal.”

“Enough about your sister. Back to sex.” Kurt tried to regain control of the conversation. He thought back on what he’d just said and groaned. He never thought he’d utter that sentence, especially not to his children.

“Maybe we should start with what you know, I mean, I know guys talk, so you may have heard some things from your friends . . . .” Blaine tried.

“Well, Michael, you know, the goalie from the school’s varsity soccer team, insisted that a girl couldn’t get pregnant her first time,” Ian began.

Kurt groaned. “That’s . . . .”

“Wrong,” Patrick finished for him. “Which is why his girlfriend is finishing the school year in a different school. Also why he’s grounded, for life, I think, and why she spent the last month she was at our school puking in the girls’ bathroom.”

“So, is everything you know based on what friends have told you?” Blaine asked.

Patrick had the grace to blush a bit. “Um, no. We’ve looked things up on the internet.”

They spent the next half hour discussing what the boys had learned, either from friends or from the internet, and affirming the information that was correct, while correcting that which wasn’t. Kurt then gave them his version of his father’s speech about how sex makes you vulnerable and changes you, and how you should use it as a way to connect to someone else, someone you love, and who loves you, not just for the physical sensation. 

“Have either of you thought about having sex yourselves?” Blaine ventured.

“Papa, we’re sixteen,” Patrick pointed out. “Of course we have.”

“And we’ve both had girlfriends,” Ian continued. “I still have one.”

“And I had one until a couple of weeks ago. Too many artistic differences,” Patrick said.

“Which means what?” Kurt wanted to know.

“Which means she insists that what I do, what I paint, matters less than what she writes. I would never tell her what she’s doing is worth less than what I do. And it’s not that she thinks I’m not a good artist, but she thinks painting, visual art, is less important than the written or spoken word.”

“So this is an art versus literature breakup?” Blaine asked.

“Yes,” Patrick confirmed.

Suddenly Kurt had an awful thought. “Have either of you had sex yet?”

The boys looked at each other slightly guiltily and Kurt got a sick feeling in his stomach. “Well,” Patrick began, “Neither of us has gone all the way.” He looked to his brother, who nodded. “But second base, definitely.”

Ian cut in. “And I’ve hit a solid triple.”

“Really?” Patrick asked, high fiving his brother. “When were you going to tell me?”

“When we got privacy and weren’t doing something else, probably in the next couple of days.”

“Amber?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, God,” Kurt moaned. This was definitely not what he wanted to find out. They spent the next several minutes discussing how to prevent both pregnancy and STD’s. Blaine looked at Kurt, then informed the boys they would be making an appointment to be tested for STD’s, given Ian’s confession. Their sons protested, but ultimately gave in.

* * *

As they sat in bed that night, Kurt turned to Blaine and said, “I can’t believe the boys are already so, um, active. I mean, my dad didn’t give me the talk until I was seventeen, and as attracted to you as I was, I really didn’t want to think about what that meant physically. And I didn’t lose my virginity, or go past first base, until I was eighteen.”

“But it was with me, and I’m nearly a year and half younger.”

“I guess. But you always seemed older. Older than me in some ways. And definitely older than the boys.”

“But I’m not older than you, and I wasn’t much older than the boys.”

“True. But that doesn’t make me any happier about what the boys have been doing,” Kurt sighed.

“I know, Baby. But we can’t stop them from growing up. They’re young men. All we can do is give them the tools they need to make good decisions. Right now we make the rules and set the limits, but in a couple of years they’ll be in college and making their own choices.”

“They’re hardly more than babies. And we make rules that they break and limits that they push and test constantly,” Kurt argued.

Blaine laughed. “They’re teenagers. It’s what they’re supposed to do. We did our share too, remember?”

“I don’t remember it being this bad,” Kurt grumbled.

“We could call your dad and ask,” Blaine offered.

“No. Let’s not. Somehow I don’t think that would make me feel better,” Kurt said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, and for comments! Don't forget to let me know if you want more of something (or want to see something that fits with this story but isn't in it), so I can look into writing it into a new installment of Along the Road. On another note, I will be traveling out of the country next week, and I'm not sure what my access to the internet is going to be like, so there may not be a new chapter next week, but if I have access I will post. Otherwise I will resume the regular posting schedule the week after next.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Character death
> 
> A few notes: This chapter is very, very short, the shortest of the story. I tried to make it longer at one point, but it detracted rather than added to the story, so it remains short. And, honestly, writing more was too hard (I don't know why this part in particular struck me that way when there are other parts of the story that are similar, but it did). Second, I'm sorry. You'll see why.
> 
> Finally, thank you so much for reading (I hope at least some of you found it to read, since I'm posting at an odd time for me), and please, please comment.

CHAPTER 20

Kurt would look back on that conversation and wish he had called his dad. He would think about so many times when he had thought about calling his dad and hadn’t, times when his dad had called and he had either let it go to voice mail or cut him off too quickly, because he was busy or felt his dad was interfering or he just didn’t want to talk to him right then. Now, he would give anything to be able to pick up the phone and talk to him, to see him one more time smiling at him, yelling at him, anything but lying in a casket, wearing a suit he hated, because for some reason everyone seems to think you need to dress someone up to bury them. He had tried to argue in favor of dressing his dad in his favorite jeans and an old flannel shirt, the very outfit that had so embarrassed him when he was in high school, but Carole wanted him in his best suit, and Finn had pulled him away. Now, he was crying in Finn’s arms while Ellie went to find Blaine.

As she had so many times over the last years, Quinn had made the arrangements. She had taken care of Burt’s business while he was ill, eventually taking over the ‘business’ side of things, leaving Burt free to work on the cars he loved. She had handled the transfer of the business to Finn and Kurt when Burt had retired, continuing to run it, so Burt would never see his beloved tire shop closed. Now, she would handle the sale of the business to Sam, who had worked there for years in the office and sometimes in the shop. She made the funeral arrangements, because Carole and Kurt were too distraught, and Finn and Blaine were too busy taking care of them. Fortunately, all the grandchildren were in their teens or twenties, so childcare didn’t have to be arranged, although Mercedes kept the kids busy and distracted while business was taken care of. After that, there would be meetings with an attorney to read Burt’s will and dispose of the estate. Kurt was the executor, but was clearly in no shape to deal with it, so this too fell to Quinn. Not for the first time, Kurt was grateful for his sister-in-law’s strength, intelligence, and kindness, as well as her devotion to his family.

Kurt was still trying to process his father being gone. It had been so sudden. Yes, his health had been slowly declining, but there hadn’t been a crisis of any sort for over a year. He was eating better, walking every day, and his stress seemed to be under control. He had been watching a Buckeyes game with Finn when he suddenly stopped, mid-yell, and slumped to the side. Finn had picked him up and driven him to the hospital, where while being treated for a massive stroke he suddenly went into cardiac arrest. They had tried to restart his heart for almost an hour, to no avail. Finn had been on the phone with Kurt, telling him of the latest setback, when the doctor came out to explain to he and Carole what had happened. Kurt had heard, through the phone, and collapsed. When he didn’t respond but the line stayed open, Finn had called Blaine, who had gone to Kurt’s studio to find him sitting on the floor against a wall, nearly catatonic. Even now, standing before the casket with his husband and children, Kurt found it difficult to believe his father was really gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry, please don't hate me (much)! And please comment!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more upbeat than the last chapter. Thank you for reading and please comment. And remember, if you want to hear more about something, or want to hear about something that would fit in the framework of the story (i.e. doesn't contradict anything in the story, and might or might not be covered in the story in any way), let me know, and I'll consider writing a chapter of Along the Road for it!

CHAPTER 21

Even without Burt, life continued. Kurt eventually remembered not to dial his father’s number when he had important news, but to call Carole or Finn instead. He still missed his dad, and wished so often for his advice, but he learned, more than ever, to trust his own judgment. He did still call his step-mother when exasperated with the children; she was calmer than Burt ever was, and he valued her opinion. However, he ultimately made decisions with Blaine, regardless of what friends or family members thought of the choices they made. Overall, anyone looking at the family would have to say the decisions must have been good ones.

The boys graduated from high school near the top of their class, and both earned scholarships at prestigious, well-respected colleges. Patrick studied painting, art, and art history at Yale, while Ian was a music major at Tisch at NYU. Kurt missed Patrick, but never got the chance to miss Ian, who, although technically living in the dorm, could more frequently be found sleeping in his old room, raiding the kitchen, or hosting ‘study groups’ at which little actual studying seemed to happen at his fathers’ apartment. However, Kurt and Blaine were both proud the boys were doing well.

Ellie, never one to be outdone, graduated as her class’s valedictorian, with Caroline, who had been her best friend from the time they were babies, standing next to her as salutatorian. Kurt and Blaine were proud but not surprised; Puck, on the other hand, having barely graduated himself, was beside himself with pride and joy, and more than a little surprised his daughter had done so well. The only note of sadness was that Lauren wasn’t there to see her daughter graduate, having passed away four years before, after a virus caused irreparable heart damage and a donor heart could not be found in time. Since then, Caroline had spent countless hours at the Hummel-Anderson household as her distraught father tried to pull himself together enough to live again, this time alone; Kurt and Blaine had come to think of her as a second daughter. The two girls were going to Blaine’s Alma Mater, Columbia. As still required, they would live on campus for at least the first year, and had already gotten approval to room together. Ellie would be studying finance and English, while Caroline focused on engineering.

“At least they won’t have the sort of roommate trouble I did,” Blaine said.

“Don’t be so sure. Living with a good friend isn’t always a cake walk either. I lived with Rachel, remember. Can’t really say that wasn’t a bumpy road.” Kurt told him.

“Yeah, but first, they’re best friends; Mercedes was your best friend, no matter what Rachel liked to think,” Blaine argued.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kurt said. “I think sometimes living with your best friend is worse.”

“But they’ve virtually lived together for four years now, and they both have someplace to go to if they need space. You didn’t have anyone, or any place, else in the city.” Blaine pointed out.

“True. But if they run, they may both end up at our place.” Kurt again had a point. “With Ian.”

Blaine laughed. “Maybe, maybe not. Caroline spent so much time at our place because Puck just couldn’t recover from Lauren’s death. I think he might be making some progress.”

“Oh?” Kurt followed Blaine’s line of sight, where Puck was clearly flirting with an attractive teacher who looked like she was in her mid-forties. “You may be right. And she’s the right age; now if he could just find one who isn’t married,” he said, referring to the fact that the only other time Puck had dated anyone in the past four years it was a twenty-two year old starlet who had a minor role in his latest screen play, as well as to the ring on the teacher’s finger.

“Come on, let’s go get him before the girls notice and are terminally embarrassed,” Blaine said. Kurt no longer flinched at the cavalier use of the word terminal, and Blaine considered it great progress.

* * *

Kurt was sorting through their Christmas card list, trying to update all the addresses before they addressed the envelopes. “Hey, Blaine, are Tina and Mike currently married, divorced, or separated?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I want to say separated, but I might be wrong. I’ve kind of lost track, it’s happened so many times.”

“You aren’t the only one, and the sad thing is it’s mostly the same disagreements they’ve had since high school, combined with Tina’s insecurity.”

“Want me to call Mike, Jr.?” Ian offered. He was once again living at home, and it looked like he was actually going to graduate the following spring, taking six years to complete his degree; his fathers tried not to compare him to his brother, who was working on his masters in art and art history.

“Please,” Kurt said, welcoming the assistance, as his own phone rang. As Ian left to get his phone, Kurt said into his, “Hi, Honey. How are you doing? It’s been a week since you’ve bothered to call home.”

“Sorry, Daddy, I’ve just been crazy busy. I mean, I started as a sophomore taking mostly upper level classes thanks to my high school AP work and CBE’s, but now that I’m really a junior, and still double majoring, the work load’s insane,” Ellie told him.

“Well, I’m at least glad to know you aren’t having problems,” Kurt told her.

“No, everything’s going great. Could you and Papa meet me for dinner tomorrow night? I have great news.”

“Sure. Want to give me a hint?” Kurt asked her.

“Nope. Let me talk to Papa for a minute. Oh, and Daddy, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kurt told her as he handed the phone to Blaine. Blaine talked to his daughter for a minute and then told her he loved her and they’d see her the next day.

* * *

The next evening found them seated in a small French restaurant, one of Ellie’s favorites. She was led to the table a few minutes after they had been seated, and they stood to greet her. She stood on tip-toes so she could hug each of her fathers. Once the food was ordered, Blaine turned to her and said, “Okay, Sweetheart, what’s your news?”

“I’m going to law school. I’ve already taken the LSAT, and I scored really well. The law school at Columbia is interested. They’ve already told me that unless my grades slip substantially over the rest of this year and next, I’m sure to be admitted, and if I keep my perfect GPA I’ll almost certainly be offered a scholarship.”

“You know, you don’t need the scholarship. You have your college fund you haven’t touched, and your trust fund. And even without that, we could afford to put you through school,” Blaine pointed out.

“I know, Papa, but I like making it on my own. That being said, I suspect I will be tapping the trust fund to get an apartment at some point. I refuse to live in squalor, which is probably what I could afford on my own for a while.” Ellie told him.

Kurt shook his head. He had been mystified when Ellie had not chosen to have any artistic major or even minor, not even in combination with a more ‘practical’ major. She was a soaring, clear soprano, and an excellent dancer, although even Kurt admitted that, at barely five feet, she was too tiny to be seriously considered as a professional dancer. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“I know you don’t, Daddy, which is why I’m doing this,” his daughter replied.

“Are you sure?” Blaine asked.

“Yes. I’ve thought about it a lot. Look, let’s put it this way. When all of us are together, and we hear a new song that’s really good, the two of you and Ian just get lost in the emotion of it. Patrick goes off on whatever visual image the song conjures for him, and can’t wait until he can paint it,” She told them, referring to Patrick’s tendency to draw inspiration for his artwork from music. “I wonder how much it would cost to secure grand literary rights if Papa wanted to use it in one of his shows.” Blaine wrote most of the music he used, but did occasionally use pieces by other people if they were particularly fitting. “It’s the same thing with older songs. Everyone else in the family just falls into them, but I wonder if they’re in the public domain. I analyze while you feel. And yes, I feel it too, but I don’t get lost in it, and the practical always outweighs the feeling.”

“So you want to go in to entertainment law?” Kurt questioned.

“Probably. Entertainment is kind of the family business, after all. But I’m not ruling out corporate or employment law. I’d even litigate in one of those areas, but litigation isn’t my first choice.”

Kurt looked at Blaine and asked, “How did the kid who’s genetically mine end up with your father’s analytical brain?”

Blaine held up his hands. “Don’t ask me, but you have to admit you’ve been guilty of being a bit overly analytical yourself.”

Ellie sighed, “First of all, still right here. Second, you two are aware that being analytical and rational is not a mental disease or defect, right?”

The two men looked at each other sheepishly before turning back to their daughter to discuss her future legal career.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please comment! And thanks for reading.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember how Kurt didn't go completely Bridezilla? Well, children don't always take after their parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are getting longer again! I hope you are still enjoying the story. Thank you for reading, and please, please leave comments.

CHAPTER 22

Ellie waived at her parents from the table as the hostess led them over. They were in a trendy Italian restaurant that had become popular with the theater crowd. Her fathers both leaned down to kiss her, a necessity due to her height even though she stood up as they approached, before all three sat down.

“Is one of your brothers meeting us? Or Caroline?” Kurt asked, noting the fourth place setting. He already knew the answer, as she had motioned them to one of the chairs next to her and the once across the table. If one of her brothers or her best friend was going to join them, she would have had one of her parents sit on each side of her.

She smiled. “No, Daddy, but there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“He’s late,” Kurt grumbled, taking an educated guess as to the gender of their mystery dinner companion.

“He got tied up at work. It’s not like that’s never happened to you. When he gets here, be nice.” She glared at Kurt for emphasis.

Blaine decided the best way to defuse the situation would be to change the subject. “How’s school?”

“Mostly good. I’m just ready for first year to be over. I want to take classes I’m interested in, not the set classes everyone has to do first year. And property, ugh, I hate property. Torts and crim law are at least entertaining, and civ pro and con law have the potential to be. Contracts was a good class because it’s really at the heart of what I want to do – the protection and licensing of intellectual property. But I don’t want to deal with Property at all, it’s boring, and my professor is awful – she actually told us she didn’t do well in the class when she was in school and we should just go buy commercial outlines to learn the material. I can’t believe they hired this woman. I know she worked for a federal judge and all, but really, she’s not that bright, she’s never practiced, and I can’t help but wonder who she slept with, or discovered sleeping with someone they shouldn’t, to get this job. Now that I think about it, it’s more likely the latter; she’s not that attractive.”

“I thought you just said you wanted to deal with property,” Kurt said, confused.

“Intellectual property, Daddy, not real or personal property,” his daughter corrected.

“What’s the difference?” He persisted.

“That’s a long explanation. Just think, real is land, personal is stuff you can touch other than land, intellectual is an idea. A book is personal property, but the story in the book is intellectual property. Beyond that, just know that I understand it and it’s part of the reason you need me, or at least someone like me.”

Kurt decided to let the issue of types of property drop. He only vaguely understood it, but he knew enough to hire lawyers who made sure his ideas were protected and he did all the right things. After that, he could be creative without worrying about it. There were other topics he wanted to discuss with his daughter.

“Who’s going to be joining us?” He asked.

“His name is Graeme. He’s a third year at Columbia’s law school. He’s from London, but he applied for and got permanent resident status last year. His specialty is international law, mostly corporate international law, but he’s got a big interest in international enforcement of intellectual property rights,” Ellie told them.

“Wait,” Blaine said. “I thought you said he got tied up at work earlier, but you just said he’s a student.”

“He’s clerking at the same firm where I got a job for the summer. By the way, I got a job clerking at one of the biggest, most prestigious firms in Manhattan for the first half of the summer, and for an intellectual property boutique for the second half. A lot of first years don’t get offered a clerkship, so I’d say I was lucky if I hadn’t worked my butt off for this. With any luck, I’ll be offered a job that will go during school my second year. Anyway, back to Graeme. He clerked with this firm half of the summer after his first year, all summer after second year, and all this year. They’ve offered him a position, contingent on graduating and passing the bar of course, for after graduation.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t a first date,” Blaine commented.

“God, no,” Ellie replied. “I would never subject some poor guy to you two on a first date, or to the wonder twins. I reserve that for when I’m either pretty sure I want them to stick around and have to see if they’re up to it, or I want them to run for the hills with their tail between their legs.”

“Don’t call your brothers that. You know they hate it,” Kurt said.

“Which is why I do it,” Ellie quipped.

“You said to be nice, so I’m guessing you want to keep this one around,” Blaine observed.

“That’s the idea,” she told him.

Kurt looked none too happy. “I don’t know that you’re ready to enter a serious relationship. You’re very young.”

“Says the guy married to the man he fell in love with in high school, who’s only dated one other person,” his daughter shot back.

They were saved from further debate by the arrival of a tall, handsome young man with dark, curly hair and hazel eyes. He had a charming accent, was solicitous of Ellie, was respectful to her fathers, and had a ready wit and infectious laugh. He was very hard to dislike, although Kurt tried.

* * *

As they got ready for bed that night, Kurt announced, “I don’t like him.”

“Yes, you do. Which is what bothers you, because you don’t want to,” Blaine told him.

“What do you think he’s after?” Kurt wondered.

“Just a guess, but it seems like he’s in love with our daughter,” Blaine answered.

“She’s too young.”

“She’s twenty three, the same age you were when we got married, and more than a year older than I was when we got married. She’s old enough, which is a good thing, because I think she’s just as in love with him. He’s only two years older than she is, so the age difference isn’t too great, he’s smart, he treats her with respect and care; quite frankly, I’m having trouble finding a reason to dislike him.”

“They’re not getting married. He’s trying to take our daughter away from us.”

“Baby, she’s an adult, living on her own. He’s not stealing her through her childhood bedroom window. Not to mention the fact that the two of them being together doesn’t mean we’ll never see her. Based on the way they looked at each other, I’d say you’d better get used to him, and probably to the idea of getting a son-in-law.”

“What do you mean the way they looked at each other?” Kurt asked.

“They looked a lot like the old pictures of you and I together. Ellie looked at him just like you looked at me, and I recognize myself in the pictures of the two of us together when I look at him,” Blaine answered.

“That’s another thing. He looks so much like a tall version of you. What’s up with that?” Kurt demanded.

“Um, she has the same impeccable taste her Daddy does?” Blaine joked. “I’m just glad you weren’t hung up on height. It’s kind of funny.”

Kurt scowled and threw a pillow at him. He was not giving up that easily. He spent the rest of the evening trying to find reasons to hate Graeme, and Blaine countered each one.

* * *

Graeme passed the next test, failing to be intimidated by Patrick and Ian. They both loved him instantly.

He was even beginning to grow on Kurt. He never failed to be supportive of Ellie, patiently delivering dinner to her in the office if she worked late, helping her study, and encouraging her when she had a bad day. When they both worked late, he ordered pizza or Chinese food, and they would eat it in his office while they either stole a few minutes away from client files or worked on their separate cases sitting side by side. Eventually, the sight of the two together caused a smile to cross his face, rather than a frown, and he began to treat Graeme as a third son.

Then came the day when he called Kurt in a panic. “Ellie’s working late! It’s not a deadline issue, she just wants to impress her boss by being ahead. She really wants to be offered a job with the firm after she graduates.”

“And?” Kurt was unimpressed. He and Blaine had learned to tell Ellie to be at a restaurant at least an hour before they had reservations because she had a tendency to work late and to lose track of time while at work. Blaine raised his eyebrows and Kurt shrugged, showing he wasn’t particularly concerned with the conversation.

“We have reservations at the Four Seasons,” Graeme said.

“You should have told her to be there at least an hour before, probably more, that’s what we do,” Kurt told him.

“You have to help me get her there on time,” he pleaded.

“Because?” Kurt prompted. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming.

“Because I’m trying to propose,” Graeme finally admitted.

“I would have expected you to talk to Blaine and I about that first. I know it’s old fashioned, but it’s still good manners and a matter of respect,” Kurt lectured.

“And I would have but for the fact that we were joking about it months ago and she said if I asked you she’d kill me, and I’m not sure if she was joking. She said it was her decision, not yours.”

Kurt sighed. “That’s my girl. Well, for the record, you have my blessing. Blaine, does Graeme have your blessing to propose to Ellie?” Blaine smiled, nodded and bounced a little. “You have Blaine’s blessing too.”

Ian was over that afternoon and grabbed the phone from his father. “Hey, man, don’t f-“ He cut himself off as he saw Kurt’s glare. “Don’t mess up,” he said instead.

Taking his phone back from his son, he said, “We’ll see what we can do.”

Turning to Blaine and Ian, he said, “Any idea how to get Ellie out of work on time?”

“I could go down there and bug her, but she’d probably just have security throw me out,” Ian said.

Blaine said, “Let me send a car for her, I’ll come up with a cover story.”

Blaine called her and said, “Hey, Sweetie, can you meet me for dinner? My lawyer’s out of the country right now, and I can’t reach him. My investors need an answer tonight, and I ran the contracts by the associate he left in charge, but this isn’t really his area and he doesn’t know me and doesn’t seem familiar with the file, and something seems off in these contracts. I promise after you skim them and tell me whether or not to sign, I’ll send you right back to work in the car. It’ll be great, we get to see each other, and you get dinner out of the deal.” After a slight pause he said, “Great, I’ll see you in an hour.”

Kurt called Graeme back to tell him Ellie would be there on time.

Several hours later, Kurt answered his phone only to pull it away from his ear quickly. His daughter was screaming on the other end of the line.

“Ellie! Quieter. I think. You may have already caused permanent hearing loss.” He put the phone on speaker. He, Blaine, Ian and Patrick, who had come over upon hearing the news that his sister was about to receive a proposal, crowded around the phone sitting on the coffee table.

“He proposed! He asked me to marry him! He got down on one knee and everything, right in the middle of the Four Seasons, and everyone in the restaurant applauded when I said yes! And you have to see the ring! It’s just gorgeous, and absolutely huge, and I’m going to look like a little kid wearing her mom’s jewelry and I absolutely don’t care.”

“Still screaming,” Kurt reminded calmly.

“Congratulations, Honey,” Blaine said.

“Way to go, Sis,” Patrick said.

“Did you make him work for it? Or did you just say yes right away?” Ian asked.

“Wait a minute; none of you are surprised. Did that little bastard ask for permission to propose after I specifically told him not to?” Ellie was quickly going from giddy to angry.

“Not explicitly,” Kurt told her.

“Clarify that comment,” Ellie demanded.

“He had it all planned out, and hadn’t mentioned a thing to any of us, but then you decided to work late. Apparently he hasn’t learned the trick to getting you places on time, and he called us in a panic, trying to figure out how to get you there on time so he could propose as planned,” Kurt explained.

“What trick to getting me places on time?” Ellie wanted to know.

“Never mind,” Blaine said, hoping she wouldn’t press the issue. If she knew their tactic, she’d adjust to it and they’d have to find a new one.

“Anyway, I’m on the way over. You have to see the ring!” Ellie was distracted enough by her news that she didn’t push on how her family manipulated her to deal with her tendency to be late.

* * *

It took no time at all for wedding planning to be in full swing. Kurt was designing Ellie’s dress and the bride’s maid’s dresses. At his recommendation, Ellie enlisted her Nana and Grandma to help her plan the rest of the wedding. Blaine wrote checks and tried to stay out of the way, and Ian and Patrick tried to stay out of the line of fire. Graeme could frequently be found hiding out with his future brothers-in-law. Ellie was very particular, and every aspect of the wedding was planned down to the last detail.

Blaine and Kurt first realized how demanding Ellie was when Caroline appeared at their apartment pleading, “Hide me. If Ellie asks, you haven’t seen or heard from me in weeks, and you have no idea where I am. Dad can’t keep a secret from her for some reason.”

“Is something wrong?” Blaine asked.

“I have a job and graduate classes and I don’t give a shit what food gets served or if some vegan aunt of Ellie’s gets offended or what color the flowers are or what they are and I don’t care if the florist drops dead the day before, which he’s going to do anyway because Ellie keeps hounding him about some exotic something-or-other, and she wants me to hound him too, which I refuse to do.”

“Is it really that bad?” Kurt inquired.

“Yes. I signed on to be her maid-of-honor, not her slave. I’m supposed to plan a bachelorette party and make sure there are limos to get us safely around town while we all get really drunk and paw the male strippers I’m going to hire. That’s what I agreed to do!”

“Wait a minute,” Kurt said. “Strippers?”

“Yeah, of course, strippers. Do you want to come? And if so, do you have any special requests? A policeman or a cowboy, maybe?”

“No,” Kurt answered. “I don’t want to think of my daughter around male strippers. Oh, God, one of our friends used to be a male stripper in high school. Now I can’t get the picture of Sam stripping in front of my daughter out of my head.”

“Only one of your friends?” Caroline said, waggling her eyebrows.

“Drop it or I’ll call her and tell her where you are,” he threatened.

“It’s dropped!” She promised.

He decided to call Carole for advice. “Don’t ask me,” she said. “I’ve been put on bridesmaid wrangling duty.”

“What does that entail?”

“Keeping them from quitting no matter what Ellie does. Believe me, the way she’s been acting, it’s not easy. She insulted both Samantha and Sara,” Carole told him, naming Finn and Quinn’s daughters, “Causing Carole Ann to threaten to bow out, and take her sisters with her. She’s been mean to Hope and Kathryn too, and—“ 

“Oh, God, do I need to call Mercedes and apologize?” Kurt asked. Hope and Kathryn were Sam and Mercedes’ daughters. 

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Carole told him. “The only ones I haven’t heard that she’s either insulted or been mean to are Brianna and Amelia. I even heard she’s been hard on Caroline.”

“She has been. And the reason she’s left Brianna and Amelia alone is because Amelia’s willing to kick her ass. So, basically, she’s been horrible to six of her eight bridesmaids.”

“Yep. Which, by the way, is causing groomsman problems too,” Carole said.

“Oh?” Kurt sighed.

“Uh-huh. Stephen and Brandon are threatening to quit because she’s been so awful to Samantha and Sara, and Derek wants out because of the way she’s treated Hope and Kathryn.”

“So the brothers want to bail because she’s been a pain to the sisters,” Kurt said.

“Yes, and your boys are none too happy with their sister either, but I don’t think they’d bow out of her wedding.”

“I wish they’d come to me, but you’re right, they won’t bail on her. They’re scared of her. She’s meaner than they are,” Kurt sighed. “I’ll talk to her.”

In the end, Kurt enlisted his mother-in-law’s help. The two of them sat Ellie down and explained in no uncertain terms that everyone wanted her wedding to be just as perfect as she wanted it to be, but no one was willing to be treated the way she was treating them, and they would leave her alone on her big day if she didn’t shape up. The result was tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so stressed, and I want it to be perfect, and everyone else seems like they think this is no big deal, and whatever happens will be fine,” she cried.

Kurt and Margaret smiled at one another. “I understand, really,” Kurt told her. “I felt the same way.”

“Although he never treated the people around him the way you have, and was always much more gracious,” Margaret pointed out to her granddaughter.

“But while we planned everything as well as we could, we couldn’t control the weather. There was a huge snowstorm, and we weren’t even sure if we were going to be able to get to the church, or if the guests could get there, and the carriage we planned to use couldn’t navigate the carriage path with the snow, but it all worked out. It’s okay. Things didn’t go off without a hitch, but we still got married, and it’s lasted over thirty years, even with all the glitches. If you’re there, Graeme’s there, and someone with the authority to marry you in the state of New York is there, in the end, everything will be fine.”

Ellie sniffled. “Okay. I’ll try to relax. But what do I do now?”

“For starters, call your cousins and all your friends and apologize,” Margaret said.

“I’d suggest groveling,” Kurt told her. She laughed. “I wasn’t kidding,” he said.

* * *

Ellie managed to mend fences, and things became calmer until the wedding rehearsal. Blaine could see Ellie was again letting her stress get the better of her, and tried to calm her down. “What if the caterer messes up and Aunt Rachel gets served something with meat? What if the cake isn’t right? What if the bridesmaids’ dresses don’t fit? What if –“ Ellie was starting to rant.

Blaine’s efforts were clearly not working. He looked helplessly to Kurt, who was chatting with Mercedes. “Uh-huh. Don’t look at me,” Mercedes told him. “I calmed this one down,” she said, nodding to Kurt, “And got him to the altar, but she is not my problem.”

Kurt sighed and went to talk to her.

At the rehearsal dinner Graeme was starting to look pale.

“You were warned a long time ago. It’s too late to back out now,” Patrick teased.

“Nonsense,” Ian replied. “We’ve been coming to eat here for years. I know the back way out, courtesy of a very agreeable waitress with a thing for musicians. You still have your British passport, right? We can swing by your place, grab it, and be to the airport in an hour and a half, tops. You can get out of the country and away from my dear darling sister for good.”

“Ian, shut up,” Patrick hissed.

“Just trying to give the man a fighting chance at life,” Ian told him.

“Don’t listen to him,” Patrick said. “By all accounts, Dad was every bit as much of a basket case as Ellie, and everything worked out fine.”

“Are you sure?” Graeme sounded as if he would cling to any hope.

“As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. Look,” Ian said, nodding toward his fathers, who were now together in a quiet corner, arms around one another, sharing a quiet kiss, followed by gentle Eskimo kisses and soft laughter. Seeing them together, Graeme relaxed, and went to save the world from his bride.

* * *

The day of the wedding dawned sunny and perfect. The weather was mild, with a light breeze. All of the wedding party had arrived without incident, on time or early, at the huge Anglican church where the ceremony was to be held.

The bride and her attendants were crowded into what the church called a ‘sitting room’ but which was normally used as a dressing room for the female members of bridal parties. The groom and groomsmen were sequestered in another part of the church, hiding from the women as well as Kurt, since all were suffering the after-effects of a second, unofficial, bachelor party thrown by the bride’s brothers after the rehearsal.

Kurt was in the priest’s outer office, awaiting the arrival of guests. Blaine had gone to check on Ellie. He returned several shades paler than normal. “Sweetheart, Ellie has gone full-blown Bridezilla on us.”

“Really?” Kurt asked. The fact that Ellie was stressed was not really news, and wasn’t particularly surprising.

“Yeah. I have no idea how to calm her down, I think the bridesmaids are trying to hide from her or may be quitting, I’m really not sure, and she’s yelling at everyone,” Blaine said.

“Is Graeme out of earshot?” Kurt asked.

“Yes. Why?” 

“So he doesn’t head for the hills,” Kurt told him. “Because if you think she’s bad now, imagine how she’ll be if she gets left at the altar.”

“He wouldn’t . . . .” Blaine said, beginning to sound doubtful.

“I don’t really think he would,” Kurt admitted. “But when we got married I was terrified that you’d figure out you’d made a huge mistake and could do so much better than me, and just not show up.”

“Oh, Baby, I’d never do that to you,” Blaine said, horrified Kurt would ever think such a thing of him.

“I’m still not sure how you’ve been dense enough to not only go through with the wedding, but stay with me through all these years, through everything, but I’m glad you have been,” Kurt told him. With a sigh, he said, “I better go calm her down. You stay here until guests start arriving, then greet them. Other than that, just write checks if there are any left to write.”

As he approached the sitting room, Kurt could hear screaming and yelling. He slowed his pace, trying to determine the best way of dealing with this. There would be no problems with dresses or make-up, as he had hired his favorite dressers, make-up artists, and hair stylists to dress the young women of his daughter’s bridal party. The closer he got to the noisy room, the more he was dreading the confrontation with his daughter.

A few feet away from the door, an angry young woman with dark hair brushed past him before realizing who he was. “Uncle Kurt? Will the make-up artists have something that can cover a bruise, or a red mark?”

“Yes, Amelia, why?”

“Because I’m about to slap your daughter,” she growled.

Kurt turned on his heel. The women were in the hands of professionals, ones who regularly dealt with the tantrums, misbehavior, and insecurities of models, and were well paid to do so. He decided to leave the matter to them.

As if reading his mind, his favorite dresser stepped out of the room, spotted him and said, “You don’t pay me enough for this.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” He promised.

She took a deep breath and stepped back into the room. Kurt took his phone out and texted a list of personnel to Blaine, telling him to write each another check, and for how much.

* * *

The ceremony was beautiful, and the reception went off without a hitch. 

When Ellie emerged from the sitting room, she was quiet, and seemed a bit calmer. The bridesmaids all had smiles plastered on their faces, some looking more genuine than others. Kurt drew Caroline to the side and asked, “Did Amelia . . . ?”

“Hit her?” Caroline replied. Kurt nodded. “No, but only because Brianna stopped her. She owes everyone an apology after this, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to have to hand out some pretty hefty raises.” Kurt nodded again and gave Brianna a quick hug on his way to his daughter.

Ellie walked down the aisle between her fathers, both of whom looked proud and happy. At the altar, they delivered her to her waiting groom, who looked much better than Blaine feared he would after hearing Ian and Patrick’s confessions about the previous night’s celebration. The ceremony was flawless in every way, from the dresses to the flowers to the vows.

The reception was elegant, and planned to perfection. The toasts were gracious, and while there was a bit of good-natured ribbing at the bride and groom’s expense, those giving toasts and speeches were generally kind. The wedding party was seated at two tables, due to its size. Kurt and Blaine found themselves with the parents of the groom. Kurt took a moment to reflect on how far they’d come: in high school, they’d dealt with bigotry and bullying due to their sexuality; now, the parents of their daughter’s new husband were wholly unconcerned with the fact that their in-laws were two men, and hadn’t even seemed surprised when they found out. Not everyone was that accepting, but they’d come a long way. Both men shared dances with their daughter, and the groom’s father asked for the dance following theirs. Graeme danced with his mother, and then sat out the next two dances, grumbling during the last that he was being left out; within minutes, both of Ellie’s grandmothers and her brothers offered to dance with him, just to make things even, after all. After that, both bride and groom danced with so many people they lost track, dancing late into the night, just as Ellie had planned.

The next morning a limo arrived to take the very happy, and much more relaxed, bride and groom to the airport, where they would catch a plane for Rome. They were spending their honeymoon in Italy, before returning to New York, where Ellie would begin her new job in the same firm where her husband already worked.

Kurt and Blaine returned home to their apartment, where Blaine reflected, “Even though it’s not really any different, I mean none of the kids really live here anymore, it seems different. Like now it’s official: she doesn’t live here anymore, she never will again.”

Before Kurt could answer, Ian wandered out of his room, looking down at them in the living room. He had left the reception a little before they did, but apparently not to go to his own apartment. “Hey, if you guys get up before noon, could you please keep it down? And leave coffee. Definitely leave coffee. Lots of it. You might want to make a second pot before you leave.” Without waiting for his parents to respond, he turned and went back into his room.

Kurt raised his eyebrows and said, “Different how, exactly?” Blaine just laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The class abbreviations used stand for criminal law, civil procedure, and constitutional law, all standard first year law school classes. Again, thanks so much for reading and I really do want to know what you think, so please comment and let me know. Also, if there's anything else you want me to write about in this 'verse, please let me know, and I'll consider it for a chapter of Along the Road (I will get to more of those, but I'm in the middle of two other big projects right now, one another fan fic, one a completely original work I hope to get published if I ever get it finished, as well as having a few other WIP's that are lower priority). Thank you again!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this story. I hope you're still with me after this chapter. Another longer chapter! And I'm sorry. You'll see why. Please, please comment and let me know what you think.

CHAPTER 23

Kurt was tired. Bone tired, couldn’t bring himself to move tired. It was his turn to cook dinner, but he was so exhausted he couldn’t think, much less muster the energy to shop for groceries. He was only fifty-six, but he thought this must be what a hundred feels like. Leaving the office he had a mental war with himself. The subway might get him home faster than a cab, and it would definitely take more time to find a cab, but he just didn’t have the energy to fight the crowds tonight. Slowly, he made his way downstairs and out onto the frigid street. The first four cabs that passed were occupied, and the next two picked up someone else before he could step out toward the street to hail them. He managed to catch the attention of the next cabbie, and as the taxi pulled up he opened the door and slumped into the back seat. 

“Wow, man, you look like you’ve had a rough week, and it’s only Monday. Where to?” The driver asked.

“Fifth Avenue,” Kurt answered, and then rattled off his street number. He did not address the other comment, but it made him think. Monday. Most of the theaters were shuttered on Monday, and Blaine did not have a show playing right now, so maybe he’d be home. However, he did have one in the early stages. They were still working on casting, so rehearsals hadn’t started yet. Kurt still wasn’t sure that he believed in God, but the events of the last thirty-nine years had weakened his certainty that God did not exist. He prayed to whoever, or whatever, was out there, that casting and the meetings that always went with a new show had not run late, and Blaine would be home when he got there.

“Hey, Buddy, we’re here!” The cabbie called. Kurt awoke with a start. He must have fallen asleep on the ride home. 

“Thanks,” he said, swiping his credit card through the machine in the backseat. He left the cab and made his way into the building. Jamie, the evening doorman, held the door for him.

“Good evening, Mr. Hummel-Anderson. Can I get your mail for you?” He inquired.

“Sure. Is. . .?” He left the question hanging, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“The other Mr. Hummel-Anderson in?” Jamie guessed, then answered at Kurt’s nod, “No, sir. Not yet.”

Kurt sighed and slowly made his way to the elevator. The ride to the penthouse seemed to last forever, and his relief as the doors slid open was incredible. He fished in his pocket for his keys and let himself in. Once in the apartment, he turned on the lamp on the small table next to the couch and sank down onto the couch. He looked at the clock: seven o’clock. “I’ll just rest for a few minutes, then figure out dinner.”

* * *

“Thanks, Carolyn. I’m in for the night, so drop the car and enjoy yourself,” Blaine dismissed his driver. Although he and Kurt kept their cars, they garaged them and only used them for out of town trips. They employed a car service to get them around town, although Kurt didn’t use it very often. Since he spent most of his day within a small area, and didn’t work regular hours, he just used the on-call option when necessary, depending on his feet, cabs or the subway for most of his transportation. Blaine, on the other hand, spent more time darting from place to place, so he had a regular driver. He hummed a melody he was working on as he walked into the building. 

“Good evening, Mr. Hummel-Anderson. Mr. Hummel-Anderson picked up your mail earlier.” Jamie smiled at Blaine. 

“Thanks, Jamie. When did Kurt get in?” Blaine responded.

“Around seven,” the doorman replied.

Blaine got on the elevator, wondering what gourmet delight awaited him at the end of the ride. He was surprised as he let himself in to find the apartment in near total darkness. Glancing toward the only source of light, he saw Kurt slumped on the couch, leaning on his fist, his arm propped on the arm of the couch. Worried, he placed the back of his hand on Kurt’s forehead; it was a little warm, but didn’t seem too bad. He woke Kurt with a gentle kiss to the cheek. “Hey, Baby, are you okay?”

Kurt came to slowly, shaking his head to clear it. “What time is it? Oh my God! Dinner – I’m so sorry! I just sat down to rest for a minute and-“

“Shh,” Blaine soothed, “It’s okay. It’s about eight-thirty. We could go out, or get take-out or something.”

“Really? You’re sure it’s okay? I’m just so tired,” Kurt said.

“Sure. What do you want? We could try the new Italian place on the corner, or get Thai from that little place a couple of blocks down, or whatever sounds good to you.” Blaine’s concern was evident in his voice.

“Would you mind if we just ordered in? I really don’t care what it is. I’m not very hungry so just order whatever sounds good to you.” Kurt sighed in relief, failing to pick up on Blaine’s worried tone. Blaine wasn’t angry; although he didn’t tend to anger over things like this, Kurt couldn’t help but feel that he had let him down.

“Sure. It’s not a problem, Sweetheart. I’ll get Chinese. We both really like that.” Blaine was getting more apprehensive by the moment. Something was definitely not right. He picked up the phone and dialed their favorite Chinese restaurant and placed the order. After getting dinner set in motion, he headed for the master bedroom; Kurt didn’t seem to notice, and did not move from his place on the couch. Blaine returned to the room and sat next to Kurt.

“Open up, Baby,” he requested gently.

“What are you doing?” Kurt demanded.

“Taking your temperature. You don’t seem like you feel well,” he responded.

“I’m fine. I’m just really tired,” Kurt said.

“Well, humor me and prove I’m wrong,” Blaine said, holding out the thermometer.

Kurt grumbled under his breath, but allowed Blaine to place the thermometer under his tongue. A few minutes later, Blaine removed it, leaning across Kurt to check Kurt’s temperature under the lamp’s soft light. “Ninety-nine point eight. You’re officially sick,” he pronounced.

“No, I’m not. Maybe, and I am not conceding this point, I might be getting a cold or something, but I’m not really sick. If I were in school the nurse wouldn’t even send me home,” Kurt argued.

Blaine sighed. Kurt worked too hard, and tended to run himself down if Blaine didn’t stop him from doing so. He usually tried to pay more attention, but the early stages of a show, from getting backing to the first week or so after opening night, tended to be really time consuming for him. If Kurt did get sick, which admittedly did not happen very often, it was almost always during times like these. “We will discuss this more after dinner.” It wasn’t a question. Kurt knew Blaine wasn’t going to let this go, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk at all. He loved Blaine, but he really just wanted to sleep. For a week. Maybe more. If he was lucky, maybe Blaine would forget about it, he thought, although he knew that wouldn’t happen.

In the kitchen, Blaine was getting out dishes and silverware and chopsticks. He set the table in the breakfast nook, which had become their informal dining room now that the kids were out of the house. They really only used the formal dining room when they threw a party or had guests or the kids came over. He called Jamie to tell him to send the delivery man up when he came, then puttered around the room to stall for time and delay the argument he knew was going to happen later this evening. Finally, the bell rang, and he went to the door. After paying the delivery girl (and realizing that the overprotective father in him was coming out, again, upon thinking that girls that young had no business running around the city at night by themselves making deliveries), he took the food in and put it on the plates before going back to the living room to get Kurt, who had dozed off again. Blaine woke him with a gentle shake, and they both went in to eat.

“Is something wrong with the food?” Blaine asked. Kurt had just stirred his soup a few times, not even trying it, and had ignored his tea. He’d spent the last half hour pushing the rest of the food around on his plate with a chopstick. He hadn’t actually eaten anything. “You do know that moving the food around on the plate doesn’t fool me into thinking you’ve eaten any more than when Ellie did it when she was little, right?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. I’m just not hungry. I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed. I’m sorry.” Kurt apologized for the second time that night. Blaine looked at him, realizing just how thin Kurt had gotten. When had that happened? He’d always been slender, but now the bones of his wrists seemed too prominent, too, well, boney. Blaine searched his mind, trying to remember the last time he’d seen Kurt eat, really eat, not just a mouthful or two. It must have been sometime before last Thanksgiving.

Blaine sighed, “Sure, Sweetheart. I’ll clean this up later. Let’s get you to bed.” Blaine knew that both of them would rather he clean up now, both because they both liked things squared away and tidy, although Blaine could tolerate more mess than Kurt could, and because neither was looking forward to the discussion that was going to occur before they went to sleep. However, Blaine was pretty sure that if he took the time to clean up now, Kurt would be sound asleep before he could finish and get back to the bedroom to talk. And they needed to talk. Tonight.

As Kurt stood up, Blaine placed a hand in the small of his back and guided him toward the bedroom. Kurt passed through the bedroom and large master bathroom and into the huge closet they shared. Blaine followed. “We need to talk.”

“Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?” Kurt begged.

“No. When was the last time you went to the doctor? Because I don’t remember.”

“When I got that sinus infection from Hell a couple of years ago. Why?” Kurt knew why. He just didn’t want to discuss it.

“When was the last time you actually had a physical?” Blaine was not giving in on this.

“When we got the new life insurance policies.” Kurt answered.

“Kurt, that was five years ago, and it was an insurance physical. All it’s designed to do is make sure that you aren’t on any drugs and that you aren’t actually dead at the time of the physical.” Blaine argued. Kurt had unbuttoned his deep blue shirt and was slowly easing it from his shoulders while Blaine talked. “Something’s – oh my God! Kurt, what happened?” Blaine gasped. His eyes were riveted to a large bruise on Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at his reflection in the full length mirror on the inside of the door. “Oh, that. A bolt of satin slid out of the rack this afternoon and hit me. I guess it bruised.” He continued to slip the shirt off, unaware that Blaine was still staring, stunned by the many bruises that marred Kurt’s back, torso and arms. Kurt had always bruised easily, and Blaine had learned to be careful: if he held Kurt too tightly while making love, he could easily mar the porcelain skin, and he’d learned that although Kurt actually enjoyed kisses that left hickeys, he had to make sure to leave them in places that wouldn’t show. Once when they were arguing Kurt had turned to storm out, and Blaine had grabbed his wrist to keep him from leaving; he hadn’t meant to hurt him, but Kurt had pulled against him, and it resulted in a ring of bruises around Kurt’s wrist that never failed to make Blaine feel guilty whenever he thought of it. But he had never seen so many bruises on Kurt at once.

“Undress for me.” 

“Blaine, I’m really just exhausted. I love you, but tonight . . .” Kurt protested.

“This isn’t about sex. Take your clothes off. Now.” Blaine ordered, anxiety causing his voice to come out more harshly than he intended.

Kurt’s eyes grew large, but he complied with the order, unbuckling his belt and then unbuttoning and unzipping his fitted pants, which Blaine noticed for the first time were not nearly as snug as they should have been, finally sliding them off over his long legs. He stood before Blaine in black boxer briefs and socks. Where were his shoes, he wondered. He guessed he had taken them off in the living room and left them there, but he couldn’t remember.

“Keep going,” Blaine ordered. Kurt slipped off his socks, then slowly removed his underwear and stood naked before his husband of over thirty years. Blaine circled him, taking note of the prominent ribs and hip bones and the bruises that seemed to cover so much of Kurt’s body. He noticed the matching sets of bruises on each buttock, five of them on each side. He stood before Kurt and reached out, placing gentle fingers on each bruise. “When did you get these?” he asked quietly, suspecting the answer and dreading it.

“The last time we made love, I guess. I promise, I’m not cheating on you.” Kurt was suddenly afraid. He had never, in their entire marriage, even considered cheating on Blaine, but what if Blaine didn’t believe him? He knew it had been a while since they made love, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else the bruises could have come from.

Blaine sighed, “Kurt, I believe you. Where else would you find someone who touches you the exact way I do, in the exact same place, and has exactly the same size hands I do? But. . .” he paused, doing a bit of quick mental math. It had been after Adam’s New Year’s Eve party. Kurt had never been much of a drinker, and except for a few notable times in high school and college, neither had Blaine. As a result, after the party broke up, the two were both still wide awake and sober, and spent the night after reaching their apartment having their own, very private, celebration that lasted until dawn broke on the first day of the new year. “It’s been three weeks, Honey. The bruises shouldn’t have lasted that long, and they aren’t even really faded. And where did all the others come from? Has someone been hurting you?”

“No, no, not at all. This one on the side of my ribs comes from bumping into my design desk the other day.” Kurt liked to work at tall design desks, so he could work on a high stool or standing. “Most of the rest of them just kind of appeared. I don’t really know how or when I got them. I guess I’ve just been clumsy lately and not paying attention.” Blaine frowned. If there was one thing Kurt had never been, it was clumsy. 

“My love, I know you aren’t going to like what I’m about to say, but I’m worried. You’re exhausted, and you’ve been way too tired too often for a long time. You’re running a fever – don’t argue with me on that –“ Blaine said, cutting off Kurt’s protest with an upheld hand, “it may be a low grade fever but it’s a fever nonetheless. You have no appetite, you aren’t eating, and you’ve lost a lot of weight. On top of that you’re basically one big bruise. You’re way overdue for a physical, and even if you weren’t, all of the stuff I just mentioned would mean that you really need to go to the doctor.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to rest a little,” Kurt countered. Blaine sighed again. Kurt was the most responsible adult in the world when it came to healthcare for anyone he cared about, but a frightened two year old when it came to his own. Blaine knew part of it was the fact that the doctors had not been able to make his mother better when he was a child. He also knew part of it was that, although he didn’t like to admit it, Kurt was afraid of needles. But the biggest issue, he knew, was that Kurt was still not really comfortable with his body and with being touched. He was open and trusting with Blaine, and did not mind hugging those he was close to, and was okay with handshakes. However, the social kissing and hugging that went on in their professional circles, the theater, music, and fashion industries, still made him uncomfortable, and he had to force himself not to stiffen each time. The thought of being undressed in front of anyone other than Blaine troubled him immensely, and the idea of being touched on a private place on his body (which he considered virtually his entire body other than his hands) by anyone other than Blaine was unbearable to him, even if it was for medical treatment.

“Look, I’m overdue for a physical too. It’s been nearly two years since I had one. I’ll go with you, we’ll both get physicals, and if you’re right you can say ‘I told you so’ as much as you want,” Blaine offered.

“I don’t want to go to the doctor,” Kurt protested.

“I know you don’t, Baby, but I’m putting my foot down. It’s not your choice anymore. You’re going as soon as I can get you an appointment,” Blaine stated. “Now put your pajamas on and let’s go to bed.”

“What about the dishes?” Kurt asked.

“Let me hold you while you go to sleep. Then I’ll get up and do the dishes.” Blaine said, taking Kurt into his arms and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Kurt pulled on soft pajama pants and an old long-sleeved tee shirt, and went to brush his teeth. He washed his face, but was too tired to actually deal with his elaborate skin care ritual. Blaine quickly changed into pajamas while Kurt was getting ready for bed, then took Kurt’s hand and led him to the king-size bed. He folded down the covers and helped Kurt climb in, then crawled in behind him and spooned against his back, wrapping his arms around his husband and placing a few soft kisses on the nape of his neck. “I love you so much, Baby,” he whispered.

Kurt’s sleepy “I love you too,” was almost lost in a huge yawn, and within minutes he was sound asleep. Blaine lay awake, knowing he needed to clean up and make some calls, but desperately afraid, all of a sudden, to let go of Kurt. Somehow, he felt, if he let go of him, Kurt would simply slip away. So he lay in the dark and held him, listening to his quiet breathing. He placed one hand under Kurt’s shirt, over his heart, just to feel it beating. After a while, in which Kurt’s breathing and heartbeat slowed, but remained strong, he slid his hand toward Kurt’s ribs, noticing how easy it was to feel each one. He continued his downward trek, sliding his hand under the waistband of Kurt’s pajamas and over his jutting hipbone. Silent tears began to slip from his eyes as he let his hand drift back up toward Kurt’s waist. Suddenly, he stopped and slipped his hand back an inch, eyes growing wide. There, on Kurt’s groin, was a small lump. Blaine’s entire body began to shake, and he held his husband as tightly as he dared. He’d never been so scared in his entire life. Finally, he managed to calm himself, taking long, deep breaths. 

Blaine eased from the bed, and went to make his calls. It was just past ten forty-five. He was pretty sure everyone he needed to talk to would still be up. As he dialed the first number, he walked upstairs, to the bedroom they had converted to a gym. He’d been too busy to use it recently, but constant dancing kept him in shape. Since Kurt no longer danced on stage as much, he was more likely to use it. However, a thin film of dust coated the treadmill, stationary bike, and weights. He made a mental note to speak to Rosemary, their housekeeper, about making sure she dusted the entire house; Kurt would have thrown a fit if he’d seen his gym like that. Next, he called the twenty four hour gym they belonged to, checking to see if Kurt had been in recently. After the desk clerk confirmed that Kurt had not been there in over two months, Blaine prepared to make his final investigatory call. Finding the number on his phone, he hit the call button.

“Blaine! Darling! Long time no see. And you’ve been hiding that handsome husband of yours away too. That’s just mean!” Ben Long exclaimed before Blaine could say a word. Blaine smiled. A few years older than he and Kurt, Ben was a dancer and choreographer who owned a dance studio where Blaine and Kurt sometimes took classes, or used a studio, if there was one vacant, to choreograph or just dance with abandon when the mood struck. He had given them keys so they could use the studio whenever they wanted. He was one of the few who had welcomed them with open arms when they first ventured into the theater world, treating them as friends rather than as threats. Over the years, his generosity had been repaid many times over, through referrals, employment as a both a dancer and a choreographer, and employment for his students.

“So you haven’t seen Kurt recently?” he questioned.

“No, my dear. Did you misplace him? So careless of you. I’m sure he won’t be lost long – someone will scoop him up in a heartbeat,” Ben replied.

Blaine laughed, “No, he’s actually asleep in my bed at this very moment. I was just wondering if he’s been in the studio lately.”

“Let me check,” Ben said. After some vandalism a few years ago at the hands of a disgruntled employee, Ben had installed electronic locks and security cameras. He could now track the usage of each individual key. “No, it looks like the last time his card was used was about a week before Halloween last year. Why?”

“I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure what’s going on. I’ll let you know when I know more.” Blaine answered.

“Oooh, so mysterious! Well, don’t be such a stranger. Love you, darling!” Ben cried.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.” And with that, Blaine hung up, heart sinking. Kurt was something of a fanatic about working out, maintaining his slim dancer’s build, but it was clear he had not been to the studio or gym, nor had he used the home gym, in several months.

It was time to make the last call. He quickly found the number and placed the call. “Dr. Yu speaking,” the voice on the other end said.

“Daniel, it’s Blaine. Can we talk?” Blaine’s voice was pleading.

“Sure, Blaine. What’s wrong, and don’t tell me nothing. That voice is not for nothing. You sound like you’re about to cry.” Blaine couldn’t help but smile, and be grateful for how well Dr. Daniel Yu knew both he and Kurt. Not only their doctor, he was also a close friend. His smile grew as he remembered how they met. When Blaine was trying to get his first show off the ground, he had quickly realized that the legalese in the contracts he was trying to negotiate was ridiculously confusing, and he would need help with them. He called his father, an attorney in Ohio; however, his father told him that he would be better off with an entertainment attorney who specialized in this kind of work, and offered to contact someone in New York for him. His father’s friend in New York, recognizing Blaine’s limited resources, suggested a junior attorney in the firm who had some experience in the area, Evan Yu. Adam had been helping with the choreography on that show, and had tagged along to several meetings. It took Blaine some time to recognize that Adam’s interest was not in the contracts, but in Evan, and the feeling was mutual. They had been together now almost as long as Kurt and Blaine. One evening, Evan and Adam had invited Kurt and Blaine out, suggesting an evening in one of Santana’s clubs. They brought along Evan’s older brother Daniel, who was finishing his residency. Evan knew that Kurt and Blaine were friends with Santana, and asked them to introduce Daniel to Santana. Laughing, they had explained that Daniel was not Santana’s type. Upon being asked if she did not like Asian guys, it took everything they had to explain that the assumption was half correct, but that the Asian part was not the issue, without dying laughing. They had been friends from that point on, welcoming Daniel’s wife Christa when he finally found and fell in love with her.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s Kurt.” Suddenly, Blaine couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and his words tumbled out in a torrent. “He’s tired all the time, he doesn’t have an appetite and doesn’t even try to eat, he’s so thin and there are bruises everywhere, he’s running a fever, and I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to come in and –“

“Blaine, stop. Bring him in the morning. Bring him. You know if you just tell him to come in he won’t do it. We’ll do a full physical, and a blood workup, and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

“I told him I’d have a physical too. We’re both overdue. It’s been almost two years for me, and I thought it might be easier to get him to go if I went too.” Blaine prayed Daniel could see them both. If he couldn’t, Kurt might bolt.

“No problem. Be at my office at eight tomorrow morning. Oh, and Blaine, both of you skip breakfast.” Daniel instructed, “I’d rather do the blood work after a minimum of an eight hour fast.”

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate this. I hope it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Nah. I don’t usually see patients on Tuesday mornings. I reserve them for charting and paperwork.” Daniel said.

“Really? Isn’t that kind of an odd schedule?” Blaine asked curiously.

“Yeah. Most doctors I know plan to do it on Friday, but I want to look forward to my weekend, and if I plan to do them on Friday, I end up taking them home and they just hang over everything like a black cloud until late Sunday when I force myself to actually do them. So Monday would seem like the next most logical time, but I just can’t bring myself to do it on Monday. Mondays are bad enough without mountains of paperwork.” Daniel explained. Blaine laughed. There was always method to Daniel’s madness. They said goodbye, Blaine much calmer now that he had a plan, and action was being taken.

As he cleaned the kitchen, he called the car service and apologetically told them he would need Carolyn early tomorrow morning, and that she should be outside at seven. Then he turned out the lights and headed to bed, picking up Kurt’s shoes from where they had been abandoned in front of the couch as he went. After placing them in the closet and brushing his teeth, he set his alarm, climbed back into bed, and drew Kurt into his arms, finally able to sleep.

* * *

Blaine groaned as his alarm blared at six the next morning. He stretched, then looked to the peacefully sleeping form of his husband. This was not going to be fun. Kurt was not a morning person at the best of times, and this was most definitely not the best of times. “Kurt, Baby, wake up. We have to get up. We have an appointment.”

“No. Leave me alone. I want to sleep,” Kurt responded grumpily.

“Not an option today. Come on. Up,” Blaine cajoled, sliding an arm under Kurt’s shoulders and lifting him into a sitting position. After a bit more arguing, Blaine was able to get Kurt out of bed and moving.

Once they were both dressed, Blaine checked his watch: a little after seven. “Come on, we’re running late. Carolyn should be waiting downstairs already.”

“Can’t I even have something to eat?” whined Kurt. Of course, Kurt’s appetite would pick this morning to make a reappearance, although Blaine suspected the request had less to do with hunger and more to do with stalling. He did not want to go into why Kurt couldn’t eat, although he was pretty sure Kurt already knew, or at least had his suspicions. Better to just stay with the excuse of running late for now.

“Nope. Not right now. But I’ll make it up to you. Once we’re done at the doctor’s office, I’ll take you wherever you want to go and you can get anything you want,” Blaine promised. Kurt grumbled something incoherent in reply. Once in the car, he leaned against the door in the backseat, pouting and staying as far from Blaine as possible. Blaine’s attempts to draw him into conversation were one-sided, and Blaine eventually gave up and texted his assistant, Paul, and Adam, who was his assistant choreographer for this show. They were supposed to be casting for the chorus today, and he told them to start without him. He trusted Adam to make the first round of cuts without his input.

Traffic wasn’t too bad, for Manhattan, and they actually made it to the medical complex housing Daniel’s office a few minutes before eight. Blaine led them upstairs as fast as he could, given the fact that he was literally dragging Kurt. When they entered the office, Daniel poked his head out from the door separating the waiting room from the rest of the office. “Hey, guys. Come on back to my office. Let’s talk for a minute, then we’ll do the exams, then we can talk again.”

Once seated in comfortable chairs in Daniel’s private office, they started to get down to business. Daniel asked the usual background questions about how their health had been, which Blaine answered for both of them, since Kurt wasn’t talking and his mood could only be described as surly. Daniel then turned to Kurt and said, “Blaine tells me you’ve been tired a lot lately. Any ideas why that might be?”

“I’ve been getting the fall/winter collections ready for the Fashion Weeks. It’s four major shows in roughly one month. It’s always tiring.” Kurt answered defensively.

“And the bruising? Any idea why you might be getting so many bruises lately?” 

“I told Blaine. I’ve just been clumsy lately, careless.”

“Hmmm. And you look pretty thin. Blaine tells me you haven’t been eating much lately.”

“You and Blaine seem to have gotten awfully chatty all of a sudden. I’ve just been busy and preoccupied. I guess I forgot to eat a few times.”

“Any recent illnesses you haven’t mentioned?”

“No,” Kurt replied shortly.

“Have you noticed that it takes longer for injuries to heal or to get over illnesses?”

“I haven’t had any injuries or illnesses to recover from. I’m fine.” Kurt insisted.

“Have you had any pain in your bones or joints?”

Blaine’s eyes widened in surprise when Kurt answered, “Some.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.

“I’m getting old, Blaine. It’s nothing more than that. You don’t need me to tell you we’re both getting older. Look around your shows. You’re casting kids younger than Ellie, and if anyone sent me a new model her age that wasn’t an international supermodel I’d laugh in their face.” Blaine was momentarily struck silent by the fact that Kurt was right; although he didn’t think of them as old, they both dealt largely with actors and models younger than their youngest child.

He was brought out of his reverie by Daniel saying, “Since my parents went to all the trouble and expense of putting me through medical school, why don’t you make it worth their while and let me decide if it’s age or something else, okay? Now, what about muscle aches and pains?”

Again, Kurt replied, “A few. But I usually know why. Too long bending over the desk or a cutting table can make my back and shoulders ache, lifting too much can make me sore for a day or two, that kind of thing.”

Finally, Daniel was done with the immediate questions and said, “Okay, here’s the game plan. We’re going to draw some blood and get some labs going, then I’ll do your exams, then we can talk again.”

Blaine spoke up, “Daniel, there’s one more thing. Last night, I, um, I found a lump on his groin.”

Kurt snarled angrily, “What? Are you groping me in my sleep now?”

Blaine responded quickly, “First of all, you never used to mind. In fact, you used to like it! And last night –“ Blaine gasped as his tears started to fall, “last night I just needed to hold you. I needed to feel you in my arms.”

“Okay, guys!” Daniel broke in.

Kurt melted for the first time that day, finally meeting Blaine’s eyes and saying, “I’m sorry,” in a small voice, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Taking charge again, Daniel directed them to a small room near the door to the waiting room. “Just head in here, and we’ll get your labs started.” Although most doctors sent patients out to an independent lab for blood draws and other testing, Daniel and his partners, largely through referrals from Kurt and Blaine and others like them, had developed a clientele of wealthy patients who valued privacy and discretion. Therefore, they drew samples in the office, and sent them out for analysis using codes instead of names, so no one outside the carefully vetted staff would ever be able to match patients to results.

Once inside the room, they were greeted by a pretty blonde technician, “Hi. I’m Nina. So, one at a time, in the bathroom, and bring me a urine sample. Once we get those, we’ll draw a little blood and then Dr. Yu can do his thing. Who’s first?” 

Blaine glanced at Kurt and answered, “I am.” He always was. It was as if him going through it gave Kurt enough courage to endure whatever the dreaded ordeal was. Back when the kids were little he always had to get a flu shot first, before Kurt or any of the children would do it without throwing a fit. Kurt had tried to avoid those appointments all together, “forgetting” to get one, less because seeing the children get shots bothered him and more due to his own fear, and because he knew Blaine would always get one (he couldn’t afford to get sick and miss several shows, and he was always around so many people) so the kids would end up getting them with Blaine and he could skip it.

“Okay, then. Blaine, right?” She smiled, holding out the specimen cup. He nodded and headed into the bathroom.

After Blaine, it was Kurt’s turn. While he was in the bathroom, Blaine glanced at the two trays set out for the blood draws. He noticed that one of them had three tubes, but the other had five. A minute later, Kurt came out, blushing. All of this made him profoundly uncomfortable. “Are you first again?” asked Nina. Blaine nodded and sat in the large padded chair next to where the trays were set. She asked if he preferred his right or left arm, then wrapped a tourniquet around his left bicep and told him to make a fist. After a second she slipped the needle into his vein and quickly drew three vials of blood, releasing the tourniquet part way through. As she removed the needle she pressed gauze to the puncture site and placed a Band-Aid over it, telling Blaine to keep pressure on it for a few minutes.

“See, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure Kurt.

“Alright. Your turn,” Nina said, turning to Kurt. Kurt slowly moved to the chair, rolling up his right sleeve. Blaine had already seen the bruises, so they weren’t as shocking this morning, but the look Nina shot his way was alarmed.

“This is going to wrinkle. I’ll have to take it off and press it after we leave.” Kurt complained. Blaine felt a little better to hear Kurt griping about clothes. It was just so normal and usual, it made him feel that everything would be okay.

“Sorry.” Nina apologized. She wrapped the tourniquet around his arm and told him to make a fist. “Ooh. You have nice, pretty veins. They’re really easy to see. You’re going to feel a little pinch.” Kurt looked past her to Blaine, miserable. Her chatter was clearly not distracting him. “Oh, shoot. Your vein collapsed. I’m sorry. I’m going to have to stick you again.” Kurt looked at Blaine with pleading eyes, silently begging to be allowed to go home, to work, to anywhere other than this office with its pain and humiliation. Blaine mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ and reached out to squeeze Kurt’s free hand. He winced inwardly as he saw bruises forming quickly at the places the needle had pierced Kurt’s fair skin. Finally, she was done, five vials of blood drawn. As she finished, placing gauze and Band-Aids over the punctures and repeating the instructions she had given Blaine. “All done.”

“Vampire,” Kurt grumbled under his breath.

“Yep,” she shot back, grinning, “You should see me after dark!” And with that, she ushered them out of the room.

Back in the foyer, they were greeted by Margaret, the nurse who had been with Daniel since he completed his residency. He joked that she had saved him from committing malpractice a time or two early in his career. “Good morning, Gentlemen. You are going to go into the rooms, disrobe completely, put on gowns, and have a seat on the table. In a moment I’ll be in to check your vitals, then Dr. Yu can do your exams. Blaine, to room one, Kurt, room two.”

“Why am I in room two?” Kurt questioned suspiciously.

“Because that’s where I put your chart. Now go,” came the quick reply.

“Do we really have to take off everything? I mean, it’s not really necessary, is it?” Kurt whined.

“Yes, it is. Everything off.” Margaret instructed. As Kurt finally headed into the exam room, Margaret turned to Nina and told her to make sure Kurt didn’t leave. She then turned to the first exam room and knocked on the door. Upon hearing Blaine tell her it was okay, she entered. As she got his weight, blood pressure and temperature, she commented, “Kurt doesn’t want to be here.”

“He never does,” sighed Blaine. 

“Don’t worry,” she laughed, “he’s not our only patient with that attitude. Everyone wants to think they’re invincible. Okay, I’m done with you for now. Dr. Yu will be here in a minute.” With that she left, headed to Kurt’s exam room. 

Going into Kurt’s room, she found him sitting on the table trying to cover as much of his body as possible with the gown. She commented on his weight loss since the last time he had been in the office, and his fever, which was a little higher, at just over one hundred degrees. Kurt didn’t respond beyond following her instructions. He just wanted to disappear.

Meanwhile, Daniel entered Blaine’s exam room. “Okay. You got him in here. Good work. Now, is there anything you want to tell me about without Kurt here? About him or you?”

Blaine answered, “No, I don’t think so. What do you think is wrong?”

“I’ve ordered a bunch of tests, and I haven’t even gotten a chance to examine him. Let’s wait and see what the exam and tests show. How are you doing? And are the two of you okay?” Daniel interrogated.

Blaine responded, “Sorry, I just want to know what’s going on. I’m fine, just worried. And as a couple, we’re great. At least, I think we are. I just don’t know why he didn’t tell me what was going on, and I can’t believe it got this far without me noticing.”

Daniel said, “Well, I think we can safely say Kurt hid what was going on precisely so you wouldn’t make him come here. We both know that he’s scared and uncomfortable here. And Christa has already informed me we have to get tickets for opening night for your new show, so I know you’re really busy. It’s easy to miss the little things until they become or add up to big ones, especially when you’re preoccupied. Okay, let’s get this done before Kurt sneaks out of here.” With that, he proceeded to examine Blaine, conducting a thorough physical. When he was done, he pulled off his gloves and told Blaine to get dressed and return to his office.

Heading out of the room, Daniel found Margaret guarding the door to Kurt’s exam room. “He’s about ready to run,” she told him as he grabbed the handle of the exam room door.

Once in the room, Daniel repeated his questions. “Is there anything you want to tell me without Blaine here? How have you been? How are the two of you doing as a couple?”

Kurt answered in monosyllables, “No. Fine. Fine.”

“Why haven’t you been talking to Blaine about the things that we were discussing earlier?”

A frustrated Kurt replied, “Because there’s nothing to talk about. Nothing at all. I’m busy and I’ve gotten a little tired. Tell you what. Tell Blaine I’m fine and I promise I’ll start taking vitamins and get more rest.”

“Let me do the exam. I’m not going to lie to Blaine, so I need to find out if you’re really okay before we go back into my office to talk to him again.” Kurt sighed in surrender, and Daniel started his examination. He checked Kurt’s throat, nose and ears, and then checked for swollen lymph nodes and glands. He listened to Kurt’s heart and lungs. Next, he said, “Can I untie your gown and check out those bruises that have Blaine so worried?” Kurt stiffened and did not respond. Daniel sighed and scooted back on his stool. “Let’s talk. Just talk for a minute, okay?”

Kurt nodded.

“The bruises and tiredness could be nothing more than anemia that we can treat pretty easily. They could be something else equally benign. You have a habit of working too hard and getting run down. They could mean someone has been hurting you –“

Kurt interrupted, “But no one is. Blaine would never –“

“I don’t think it’s Blaine. If it was, he wouldn’t insist that you come here. If I were to find signs of abuse, I would have to report it, but I doubt that I will. What worries me more is that they could be a sign of something more serious. And if that’s the case, we need to find out what it is and decide what to do about it as quickly as possible to keep things from getting worse. Now, will you let me see them?” Reluctantly, Kurt nodded. Daniel reached behind Kurt’s neck and untied his gown, pulling it down to his waist. Kurt curled in on himself as Daniel walked slowly around the table, looking at the bruises. He touched a few, asking if they were painful, and inquiring as to how he had acquired others, questioning how long they had been there. Kurt answered, telling him that most didn’t hurt that much, disclosing how he got some, explaining he didn’t know how he got the others, and finally admitting that they seemed to be sticking around for a while. After several minutes, Daniel drew the gown up and retied it.

After telling Kurt to lie down on the table, he felt Kurt’s abdomen, asking if anything was tender, then listened to his stomach and intestines with his stethoscope. Next, he had Kurt sit up and checked his reflexes and the range of motion in his joints, asking about the joint pain in more detail, and following up on the muscle pain Kurt had mentioned. 

Finally, he said, “Okay, almost finished. I just need to check for hernias and check your testicles and prostate.”

Before he could continue Kurt protested, “Everything below the belt is in perfect working order. You can ask Blaine! There’s no need to check. I promise. Everything’s fine!”

Daniel laughed, “I’m pretty sure he’s not ‘checking’ for the same things I am. If he’s like most of us, his brain isn’t even in full working order when he’s making love. Now will you please let me finish my exam? I’ll try to be quick.” Kurt finally acquiesced, blushing beet red as Daniel checked for anything amiss in the most private parts of his body. Parts of his body he didn’t like anyone but Blaine to touch. Parts of his body he had never wanted anyone but Blaine to touch, if he was honest, suddenly flushing even redder when he thought about how unfair and dishonest he had been not only to himself, but to Adam and Blaine as well, all those years ago. When Daniel was finished, he told Kurt to get dressed and meet he and Blaine in his office.

As Daniel entered his office, Blaine looked up. “That took a really long time. What’s wrong?” Blaine inquired, worried. 

Daniel replied, “Well, part of the time issue was that Kurt was pretty reluctant, so we took things pretty slow and we stopped to talk a few times. Part of it was that while you’re doing pretty well, as you noted, something is definitely up with Kurt, so I took my time and was pretty thorough. Let’s wait until he comes in to finish talking. I know you did what you had to do to get him in here, and I agree it was a good idea, but I think he feels like we’ve gone behind his back and ganged up on him, so I think it’s best to make sure he’s involved in the discussion from now on.” Blaine nodded, and they discussed the new show, Blaine promising to make sure that opening night tickets would be waiting for he and Christa at the box office.

Before long, Kurt appeared at the door to the office, pausing before reluctantly stepping inside and taking the remaining chair. Daniel looked from Blaine to Kurt, then said, “Well, we can’t say anything for certain until we get your test results back. As Blaine and I have already discussed, his physical didn’t turn up any surprises, and he seems to be in good shape. Kurt, you are a different story. You are clearly at least somewhat ill. From the fever I would guess you have a mild viral infection. The best way to treat it is going to be to rest and take it easy. If that means backing off on Fashion Week preparations, do it. You’re always hyper-prepared anyway, so my guess is you’ve really been ready for months and now you’re just stressing over details you’ve been over a hundred times already.” Blaine smiled again at how well Daniel knew them both. “You pay a small army of assistants anyway, so delegate. Try to eat something, even if you’re not very hungry. As far as symptoms, you don’t really have much specific. If you’re too uncomfortable, you can take some Motrin, but otherwise, just let it run its course. However, a virus doesn’t explain the bruising, and the tiredness has lasted too long to be caused by the virus. The same goes for the lack of appetite, the joint pain, and the muscle aches. You have some swollen lymph nodes, which might or might not be related to a virus, and your abdomen was a little tender. I’m still not sure what’s really causing all this, but I’m hoping that the blood tests shed a little light on the situation.”

Blaine reached out to take Kurt’s hand, but Kurt pulled away. He was still pouting. Blaine withdrew his hand and refocused on Daniel, “How long until we know something?”

“We should get results in a couple of days. I’ll call you when they come in. I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you right now. Do you have any more questions?”

Kurt shook his head. Blaine thought for a minute, then released a long breath and said, “Not really. I guess we just have to wait for the test results.” After saying their goodbyes, they left the office and walked to the elevator while Blaine called for Carolyn to meet them downstairs.

As they stepped onto the elevator Blaine said, “I believe I promised you breakfast. Where do you want to go? What do you want to eat?”

Kurt refused to look at him. “I want to go to work. I’m not hungry.” 

Great. So much for the renewed appetite. “You need to eat. Daniel specifically said to eat.” Kurt’s only reply was his patented bitch glare, and Blaine knew he was not going to win this battle. “Fine. I’ll drop you at the office.”

The ride to Kurt’s office was spent in uncomfortable silence. As soon as the car pulled up to the curb, Kurt jumped out. He did not turn to say goodbye, just strode into the building without looking back. Sighing, Blaine placed a call to Jenna, Kurt’s personal assistant, warning her that Kurt was on his way up and in a bad mood, and asking her to try to get him to eat something during the day. After getting her promise to try to tempt Kurt into eating, he gave the building one last look before sitting back and directing Carolyn to drive to the rehearsal space where Adam had spent the morning working on casting for the new show.

* * *

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully for Blaine. He and Adam worked late trying to get through everyone who had showed up to the open call audition for chorus parts, and it was eight-thirty by the time he left for home. As he entered his building, Jamie greeted him and asked if he wanted his mail. Surprised, he asked, “Didn’t Kurt pick it up already?”

“No, Sir. Mr. Hummel-Anderson hasn’t come in yet this evening.”

Blaine frowned. It was after nine, and Kurt was always either home by now, or had let him know he would be late. He rode the elevator up to the apartment, taking out his phone on the way. As he let himself in, he dialed Kurt’s number. There was no answer. Frowning, he tried Kurt’s direct office number, and was surprised when Jenna answered. “Jenna, what are you still doing there?” Kurt might work late, but he generally sent his staff home. They were devoted to him, but few kept the hours he did, especially when he was getting ready for a big show.

“Goes with the territory. Literally. As in Kurt’s been a terror, and on a major tear, today. He’s threatened to fire everyone at least once. We aren’t sure if he means it but he may have actually fired an intern and a junior designer. A few people have snuck home but the majority are afraid to leave, they’re afraid if they do they won’t have a job to come back to. Oh, and before you ask, no, I couldn’t get him to eat today. I tried, but I need my job, so I only pushed so far. And he says he’s not going home, that he’ll sleep on the couch in his office tonight.”

Sighing, Blaine instructed, “Go home. Tell everyone else to go home, too. I’ll be down in a little bit to get him to come home.”

“I wouldn’t do it if I were you. We told him you’d do that, and he said he’d refuse to open the door. When we pointed out that you have a key, he said if you used it he’d have the locks changed tomorrow. What’s going on? All he’d say is that you overreacted to a cold, which made absolutely no sense.”

“It’s not a cold. I don’t know what’s wrong, but he’s sick and he’s been hiding it from me. I found out and made him go to the doctor this morning. So now on top of being sick he’s angry and probably scared,” Blaine answered. Jenna wished him luck and then went to finish up the last of Kurt’s instructions before heading home.

Having already dismissed Carolyn for the night, Blaine hailed a cab and headed to the fashion district. Making his way to Kurt’s studio office, he called Kurt again. There was no answer. There was also no response other than voice mail on the office line. Having arrived at the office door, he tried knocking, resisting the urge to let himself in. Finally he tried texting: I’m worried about you. Please let me in. I’m outside the office door.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Go home. I don’t want to talk.

He tried again. Please. I love you.

Again the phone buzzed. A single word appeared on the screen. No.

Finally he gave up. Kurt had done this before when he was angry. He would sleep in the office for a day, maybe two, and then calm down and come home. Blaine caught a taxi and headed home. On the way he texted again: I do love you. We’ll talk tomorrow. He waited for a response, but none came.

Upon arriving home, he made himself a quick sandwich and headed to bed. He lay down on Kurt’s side of the bed, head on his pillow, just to breathe in Kurt’s scent as he drifted to sleep. 

* * *

Kurt knew he was being unfair. He knew Blaine loved him. He knew Blaine only made him go to the doctor because he was scared and worried about him. But he was scared too. He had been aware of the things Blaine had just noticed for a while, but he had brushed them off as nothing serious. But if they really were nothing, Blaine shouldn’t have noticed. Daniel shouldn’t have seemed concerned. Neither of them should have put him through the hell that was the humiliation he always felt when undergoing a medical examination. But they did, which made it much harder to tell himself there was really nothing wrong, which scared him, a lot. So he lashed out. He lashed out at his staff. He lashed out at Blaine. He took his fear out on any and everyone around him. And he was going to have to apologize to a lot of people in the morning, but not tonight. Tonight he just wrapped himself in a blanket on the couch, recalling a line from an old song: Well I wrapped my fear around me like a blanket. That, he admitted, was what he was doing. He promised himself he’d make things right tomorrow. But not tonight. 

* * *

Blaine did not sleep well, and awoke early. At that point, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so he prepared thermoses of coffee and orange juice, placed some fresh fruit in containers, and packed it all into a picnic basket. Looking at the food, he realized that no matter how much Kurt needed it, the food probably wouldn’t be welcomed. He needed a better peace offering. Heading back to their closet, he chose one of Kurt’s favorite outfits to wear to work and placed it carefully in a garment bag, adding clean underwear and socks. He threw a few of Kurt’s “essential” toiletries into a small bag as well. Going downstairs, he hailed a taxi, having it stop by Kurt’s favorite bakery to pick up some fresh bagels for himself and pastries for Kurt. He then directed the driver to Kurt’s office, calling the car service on the way to have them send Carolyn there instead of the apartment.

Kurt slept badly as well, and woke up in a bad mood. He felt sticky and in need of a shower. He was stiff from having slept on the couch. Blaine was the focus of his anger, and he was unsure if he was angrier that Blaine had noticed what was going on and forced him to Daniel’s office, or that it had taken him so long to notice. He was angry that Blaine had come down the previous night and that Blaine had not made him go home. 

He made his way into his private bathroom, and proceeded to try to make himself presentable using only the sink, making a mental note that when they remodeled the office later that year, he definitely needed a shower. And a closet, he thought, grimacing at the thought of wearing the same clothes two days in a row; he was both taller and thinner than any of his male models, so the men’s clothes in the studio were unlikely to fit. He had promised himself he would make amends to his staff today, and he felt he would be better able to do that if he at least looked decent, even if he didn’t feel that way.

As Blaine made his way into the building, he ran into Jenna. “Any news on the sleeping dragon?” she asked.

“No, I tried but couldn’t get him to come home last night, and I didn’t use my key. I was afraid he would carry through with his threats. He wouldn’t even talk to me. I brought breakfast to try to make up.”

Jenna let him into the office. “Stay out here,” He told her, heading to Kurt’s private office. Once inside, he heard Kurt in the bathroom. He spread the food out on the coffee table in front of the couch, and laid the clothes out across a chair near Kurt’s desk.

A few minutes later Kurt emerged from the bathroom, stopping in surprise when he saw Blaine. “What are you doing here?” There was more than a little hostility to his tone.

“I thought you might need a few things,” he said, gesturing to the chair.

Seeing the clothes, Kurt melted. He couldn’t stay angry at that point. “Thank you,” he whispered, tears coming to his eyes. Blaine took that as a good sign, crossing the room and gathering Kurt in his arms.

“At the risk of making you angry again, I’m not sorry that I made you go see Daniel. You needed to do it. I am sorry that you were scared, and that you felt the way you did during the exam. But I’m worried about you, and worried that you haven’t been talking to me. I love you. I care if you’re sick. I kind of want to keep you around, you know. Now go clean up. I brought a few other things as well,” Blaine told him, handing him the bag of toiletries.

Kurt’s eyes lit up a little, and he tilted his head down to kiss Blaine softly, just next to his mouth. “Thank you,” he repeated, taking the bag and clothes and returning to the bathroom. Blaine had managed to snag most of the essentials, and Kurt felt much better once he emerged again.

Blaine was seated on the couch. “Come sit with me and eat.”

Kurt sighed. “I’m really not hungry.”

“I know you aren’t, but Daniel said you need to try to eat, even if you’re not hungry. And we can talk and eat at the same time.”

Kurt sat down next to Blaine and leaned into him slightly, bypassing the glass of juice Blaine tried to hand him in favor of the coffee. He allowed Blaine to feed him a couple of berries, but raised his eyes at the pastry. “You know that will go straight to my hips.”

Blaine laughed, “I hope so. You need it right now. Speaking of which, you really need the juice too.”

“Trust me, not nearly as much as I need the coffee,” he said, taking a long drink from his mug. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I guess I just don’t think that whatever’s going on is such a big deal, but it’s harder to tell myself that when you get all worried, and that scares me.”

“I don’t know whether to be worried or not, based on what Daniel said. It scares me that you didn’t talk to me,” Blaine said, “I feel like you’re shutting me out. And then last night you didn’t come home, and that really didn’t help. I’d rather have you yell at me than go silent and refuse to discuss anything.”

“I know. Why do you think I do that when I’m really angry?” Kurt responded, “And the exam was so awful . . .” He grew quiet for a moment, then said, “I just don’t like anyone other than you to touch me . . . in those places.” By the time he finished speaking, he was blushing.

Blaine took his hand. “I know. And I wish I could save you from that, but sometimes it really is necessary. Please, please, promise me you’ll tell me how you’re feeling, and what’s going on with your body from now on. I love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I love you too. I’m not planning on going anywhere. I may not tell you about every twinge, or things that really seem insignificant, but if things start compounding or if there’s anything really wrong, I promise I’ll tell you.” Kurt pledged. Given the qualifiers, Blaine wasn’t sure he’d gained any ground, but he knew it was the best he was going to get this morning. And Kurt was at least eating a bit, having eaten a little more fruit, and a small corner of his pastry, as well as downing the juice and coffee. Blaine decided to take his small victories as they came.

Kurt leaned over and kissed him again, this time on his lips, slow and sweet, before pulling back with a sigh. “I have to go and apologize to my staff. I think I may have taken some of my frustration out on them yesterday.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows but did not comment. Instead, he said, “Promise me you’ll come home tonight. Let me send the car for you at six. Don’t worry about dinner, we’ll either go out or if you’re too tired we can order in. I’d cook but I was both too late and too worried last night to shop, and I don’t think you should cook until we get a handle on this. Just take it easy and rest.”

Kurt cocked one eyebrow and inquired, “And what did you eat last night?”

“Only one of my finest sandwich creations.”

“PB and J?”

“Yep.”

Kurt just shook his head and said, “I’ll be ready to go at six. Otherwise your health will be trashed if I leave you to your own questionable culinary devises.”

Blaine headed to his rehearsal space, and Kurt went to make amends to his employees. Blaine spent the day winnowing down the dancers who had been called back for chorus spots. Kurt spent the day apologizing, going over details that had been planned and re-planned, and trying to track down the two employees he had fired so he could apologize and explain that he didn’t really mean to fire them and beg them to come back.

As promised, Kurt left the office at six, and stepped into the waiting car. Carolyn then drove to the rehearsal space to pick up Blaine. They went out for Italian food on the way home, and Kurt managed to eat a little more than he had over the previous few days. They were home before nine, and headed straight to the bedroom. 

Kurt’s fever was up a little, and Blaine insisted on helping him get ready for bed. After soaking in the bath that Blaine drew for him, he let Blaine wash his hair and then dry him off, finally dressing him in his pajamas like a child. Blaine led him to bed, folding down the covers and then tucking him in. “Aren’t you coming?” Kurt pouted.

Blaine smiled at him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Yes, just let me get a quick shower.” With that, he left, preparing for bed and coming to join Kurt. He was a little surprised to find Kurt still awake. He slipped into bed next to him and drew Kurt into his arms, and the two fell asleep snuggled together, a warm and familiar position that never failed to comfort them both.

* * *

The next morning they arose and had breakfast together before heading to work. Kurt insisted on making French toast, which Blaine agreed to provided Kurt was actually willing to eat some of it. They agreed to both come home early, and Blaine informed Kurt he was going to make dinner. Kurt rolled his eyes, knowing Blaine’s talents in the kitchen were limited to grilling, rustic Italian (Kurt insisted on calling everything Blaine cooked “rustic,” since he couldn’t seem to cut any two pieces of anything the same size), and certain breakfast foods, but nodded his assent. Then both left for work.

The morning passed uneventfully. Kurt spent the time obsessing over tiny things, and whether the shows should be the same for each major city, or if he should make each different, and comparing the different scenarios he had already planned for either decision. Blaine spent it making the final cuts for chorus parts, letting Paul know who to contact. 

Blaine planned to have a working lunch with Adam so they could discuss the callback list for the more minor parts, having cast the leads a few weeks ago. However, just after their sandwiches were delivered at noon, Blaine’s phone rang. Glancing down, he saw that it was Daniel’s number. “Just a minute. I need to take this. Be right back,” he said, pushing the talk button as he stepped out, expecting to hear Margaret or one of Daniel’s other staff members’ voices. 

Instead, it was Daniel. “Blaine? Can you get Kurt and come down here this afternoon at three?”

“Hey, Daniel. I guess. What’s up?” Blaine inquired, expecting to hear Daniel’s chuckle telling him it was nothing serious, nothing to worry about. It didn’t come.

Instead, he heard, “I really don’t want to discuss this over the phone. Just get Kurt and come down here. I’ve cleared my afternoon. I’ll see you then.”

* * *

Blaine stepped back into the room, a concerned look on his face. Adam picked up on it immediately. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m not sure. That was the doctor. He wants Kurt and I to go down to his office this afternoon to discuss something. He wouldn’t say what.”

“Do you need to leave?”

“No, not for at least an hour,” Blaine responded. He sat down and tried to focus, but it was no use.

After about fifteen minutes, Adam sighed and said, “Earth to Blaine! We aren’t getting anywhere. I’ve repeated myself four times now, and you have no idea what I said. You aren’t really here. You clearly aren’t going to be able to focus. Go get Kurt or go home or whatever you need to do, because we aren’t going to get anything done this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said, “Thanks for understanding.”

“Go,” Adam waived him away.

Blaine went to where his car was waiting and directed Carolyn to Kurt’s office. When Kurt saw him enter he smiled and said, “Hey Babe. What are you doing here? I promise to eat lunch in a little while. You don’t need to check on me.”

Looking at him, Blaine took his hand and led him into his private office. “Daniel asked us to come down to his office. He wouldn’t say what it was about. We’re supposed to be there at three. He said, um . . . “ Blaine looked at the floor, “he said he cleared his afternoon.”

“What did the test results say?” Kurt asked.

“He didn’t say. I guess we’ll have to find out when we get there.” The two exchanged worried glances before Blaine took Kurt into his arms, pulling him close and holding him tight. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered into Kurt’s hair, thinking to himself, it has to be.

* * *

Kurt was no more able to concentrate than Blaine had been, so they left for Daniel’s office early. For once, Kurt did not protest going to the doctor. They arrived nearly an hour early, but Margaret immediately ushered them back to Daniel’s private office. The sympathetic look she gave them did not inspire confidence.

After about forty-five minutes, Daniel came in and sat down, opening a folder on his desk. “Kurt, Blaine, thanks for coming in.” The look on his face was serious. “Let’s start with the easy stuff. Blaine, all your test results looked pretty good, given your age.” Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look and Kurt gave Blaine a small, weak smile. Blaine reached out to take Kurt’s hand and held it tightly. “Kurt, your blood work was a lot more problematic. The tests showed a lot of abnormal blood cells. The abnormal cells can’t do their jobs effectively, so your blood hasn’t been carrying oxygen, fighting infection, or clotting like it should. That explains why you’ve been so tired, the little nagging minor illnesses, and the bruising.”

“But what’s causing the abnormal cells in his blood?” Blaine interrupted.

Daniel glanced from Blaine back to Kurt, looking directly into Kurt’s terrified eyes. “We’ll need to do more testing to confirm it, but it looks like possible leukemia. Kurt, I’d like you to see an oncologist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, please don't hate me! If there are any medical errors, I'm sorry; my field is law, not medicine, and all medical stuff is based on internet research, so if I screwed it up, I apologize. The song Kurt is thinking of in his office is Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls. Again, thank you for reading, and please, please comment.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things are dark, right now, and they're going to get worse before they get better, but please, please stick with me, and please (I'm begging!) review and comment.

CHAPTER 24

“When?” Kurt felt like he couldn’t breathe. How much time did he have? How long could he stall, how long could he hold off whatever came next? How much farther down into Hell was he going to fall?

“I took the liberty of making an appointment for you this afternoon with a colleague of mine. Her name is Lynn Miles. She’s one of the best in the field, and very respected. Your appointment is at four o’clock. I’ll walk you over, but I need to send your test results now, so she can review them before the appointment. You can, of course, see someone else, but you shouldn’t wait. If you won’t see Lynn, you need to find someone else as soon as possible. I can give you other names if you want.”

Kurt looked desperately to Blaine. Blaine tried to give Kurt a reassuring look, trying to hide his panic, and silently pleading with him to please, please go to this appointment. He squeezed Kurt’s hand even tighter, then eased his grip a little, remembering suddenly how easily Kurt bruised now. Kurt responded by tightening his grip on Blaine’s hand. Without letting go, he turned to Daniel, drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and said in a small voice, “Okay, I’ll go.”

Daniel stepped out of the office, directing Margaret to send Kurt’s results to Dr. Miles’ office immediately, then returned to his place behind his desk.

Blaine slowly released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Kurt wasn’t running. As long as Kurt wasn’t running away, wasn’t denying the problem, they could deal with it, would deal with it, together. “What are the treatments? What should we expect for . . . “ his voice trailed off. How do you ask if you are going to lose your husband, if he is going to die? “For an . . . outcome?”

Daniel responded carefully, “I’m an internist. You’re asking me questions that Lynn will be better able to answer. First of all, as I said, additional testing will have to be done to confirm whether or not Kurt has leukemia. If you do, Kurt, the treatments and prognosis are still dependent on a lot of different things. Leukemia can be either acute or chronic, and there are different forms. Both the treatment options and the outcome depend on which form of leukemia you have, whether it’s acute or chronic, and on other factors such as your age, health, and how well you tolerate certain treatments.” Daniel continued to talk, and Blaine and Kurt responded, but neither of them remembered the rest of the conversation. Eventually, Daniel told them it was time to go to the appointment with the oncologist, and he ushered them out of the office via a back door and walked them to her office.

Once they arrived, Daniel introduced them to Dr. Miles. They all went back to her office, and she went over many of the same questions about how Kurt had been feeling, his various symptoms and their duration, that Daniel had a few days before. Unlike Tuesday’s questioning, however, Kurt quietly answered most of the questions himself, although he seemed to be somewhat in shock. Blaine chimed in periodically to mention something relevant he had noticed, or something Kurt seemed to have forgotten. Daniel spoke up to tell her the things he had noted during his exam when they were relevant to her questioning. 

Finally, she stood, and asked Kurt to follow her to an exam room. Once at the door, she repeated the now familiar instructions to disrobe and don a gown. A few minutes later, she knocked, then entered once Kurt told her he was ready. She conducted an exam similar to the one Daniel had done, minus the last, most humiliating part, asking many of the same questions Daniel had. Kurt answered her in subdued tones, arguing less than he had with Daniel, and following her instructions silently. Eventually she was done, and told Kurt to get dressed and meet her in the office where they had left Blaine and Daniel. 

Once they had both returned to the office, Dr. Miles began to speak, “Kurt, both your blood tests and physical exam are consistent with leukemia, as are most of your symptoms. We will need to do a bone marrow biopsy and aspiration to confirm the diagnosis, however.”

In a small voice, Kurt asked, “When?” Blaine glanced away from the doctor’s face and toward Kurt, somewhat amazed that Kurt was actually participating, and that he wasn’t the one that was having to ask all the questions.

“As soon as possible. I can do it tomorrow morning, or early next week, but, as I said, the sooner the better. If you do have leukemia, the sooner we can start treatment, the better your prognosis is likely to be.”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt said definitively, “let’s get this over with as soon as possible.”

“Okay. I’ll put you on the schedule for tomorrow morning. My nurse will give you instructions for when to be here at the medical center. You really don’t have to do much preparation. Do you want to be sedated or have something to relax? It’s not necessary, but it does make the procedure less unpleasant. You will, however, need to make sure someone is with you if you take either of those options,” Dr. Miles said.

“Will I be able to go to work tomorrow?” Kurt inquired.

“Yes, but you may not want to,” Dr. Miles replied, “I’ll give you a local anesthetic to make you more comfortable, but it’s still not going to be an entirely pain-free procedure. You’ll probably be sore for a day or two.”

Kurt paled even more than normal, which Blaine would not have believed possible. “How much pain?” He whispered.

“Some,” she answered, “it’s not unbearable. Lots of people do it without any sedation or medication other than the local, but a lot of people do prefer to have some sort of sedation or medication to help them relax. It still won’t completely eliminate the pain, but you’ll remember less of it.”

Kurt squared his shoulders. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out and said, “I really need to go to work. I’m preparing for several major shows that are coming up, and between seeing Daniel a couple of days ago and today, I’ve missed a lot of work. I’ll do it with just the local.”

Startled, Blaine stared at Kurt for a moment before asking, “Baby, are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”

Giving him a withering look, Kurt said, “I don’t have to do what? The biopsy? The consensus seems to be that I do. And I know I’ve got too much work to do to take an entire day off, so doing it without additional drugs seems to be the option left open to me.”

Cutting in, Dr. Miles interrupted, “I’ll tell you what. We’ll have some ready for you, in case you change your mind. We’ll ask in the morning. You can feel free to do whatever feels right to you then.”

Blaine asked, “What is the treatment, and what are we talking about in terms of outcomes?”

“Well,” Dr. Miles answered, “the first step is to confirm whether or not Kurt actually does have leukemia. If it is leukemia, the next is to determine the type. That will determine both where we go from there as far as treatment goes, and what the prognosis is. Let’s figure out exactly what we’re dealing with and then we’ll go from there.”

After that, she said goodbye, telling Kurt she would see him in the morning. The nurse gave him instructions and told him what time to be there in the morning. They then left the office with Daniel, who tried unsuccessfully to diminish their worries by talking about how good Dr. Miles was. Finally, he told them that he would keep in touch with both the two of them and with Dr. Miles, and that they could call him anytime if they had any questions, then bid them goodbye.

They didn’t speak as they prepared to leave. As they stepped into the elevator, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, pulling him against his own body. Once they were in the car, he reached for Kurt’s hand. Forgetting about their plans for making dinner, they stopped to eat on the way home at a tiny Greek restaurant, and as soon as they left the car, Blaine grabbed Kurt’s arm and pulled him towards himself, nearly pulling Kurt off balance. Kurt had had enough. “Blaine, I’m not going to disappear in a puff of smoke if you let go of me for a second. It’s going to be okay. I love you. I love it when you touch me, I love touching you, but I do need a little bit of personal space. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s just – I just . . .”

“I know. It’s a lot, and we’re both still processing it. But when we get inside, you are sitting across the table from me. Not right next to me. And if you touch me, it better be to play footsie. And if you do that, you’d better be prepared to carry through with whatever it inspires when we get home. No teasing. Got it?”

“Got it,” Blaine responded weakly, a small smile playing on his lips for the first time since Daniel had called early that afternoon.

Once inside the restaurant, they were seated at a small table, Blaine across from Kurt as instructed. They gave their waiter their order, then waited in strained silence until the appetizer, a trio of Mediterranean dips with fresh warm pita, arrived. Kurt had even less appetite than usual, but he was trying to eat so that Blaine wouldn’t worry. “We should call the kids, they should know,” Blaine said quietly.

Kurt’s head shot up and he looked directly into Blaine’s eyes. “No! Absolutely not! We do not worry them until there’s something to worry about.”

“You don’t think this is something to worry about? Really?” Blaine shot back.

“We don’t know what this is. Daniel and Dr. Miles have their suspicions, but nothing’s been confirmed yet. And until it is, we proceed as if everything is normal. Do you hear me? We do not tell the kids. And we do not tell anyone else, either. Not Carole, not your mom, not Finn and Quinn, not Adam and Evan, not Santana and Brittany, not Mercedes and Sam, no one. I mean it. Do you hear me? No one at all,” Kurt insisted.

Blaine had to make one last attempt. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I guess the boys will understand. Especially Patrick. For having my genetic material he is so much your child. Remember the time he broke his leg playing lacrosse and insisted that we not be called until the break was confirmed and they needed our permission to set it?” Kurt smiled at the memory. “And I guess Ian will understand, or at least he’ll get over it pretty quick. But Ellie? When she finds out we didn’t tell her right away, leukemia will be the least of our worries. She’s going to kill us.”

“We all survived her wedding last year,” Kurt responded dryly, “We’ll survive her wrath this time.”

“There are people still in therapy because of that wedding.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t some of those people,” Kurt pointed out.

Blaine gave in. “Fine. But the second we know what this is,” he couldn’t bring himself to say the second the leukemia is confirmed, “We tell them. No more delays, no more stalling. I will tell them whether you give me permission or not.”

“Deal.” Kurt agreed. He glanced down at the table and realized Blaine had yet to touch the dips, and the pita he had taken had been reduced to a pile of tiny pieces and crumbs on the plate in front of him. “You’re eating even less than I am. Eat. You know it won’t do either of us any good if we’re both sick, and you don’t function well without food. What am I saying? You don’t function at all without food.”

Blaine looked down at his hands, suddenly stilled in the middle of the process of shredding another piece of pita. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” he said, sounding suddenly lost and broken. He needed to talk to someone, but couldn’t bring himself to tell Kurt all the things he was scared of, because he didn’t want to, couldn’t afford to, scare Kurt any more than he already was. And Kurt forbade discussing it with anyone else.

Kurt reached across the table and took his hand, “Hey, Sweetheart, look at me, we’ll be okay.” Blaine looked into his eyes and wished he could believe him, but he had a bad feeling that, as much as Kurt wanted to believe it, he was wrong. When the waiter came with their entrees, Kurt told him to leave the appetizers, which he knew Blaine liked more than the main course. Through coaxing, feeding him, and trading a bite for a bite (“I’ll eat one if you do”), much as they had done with the children when they were little, Kurt got Blaine to eat a reasonable amount of the meal. Blaine didn’t taste any of it.

They finally went home, heading to bed early. Blaine, remembering what Kurt had said, lay uncomfortably on his own side of the bed. Neither of them slept well alone anymore, and morning tended to find them in each other’s arms, legs tangled together like an old-fashioned nail puzzle, or spooned together, each a perfect fit to the other’s body and in the other’s arms. It didn’t last long. Kurt told himself he was just taking pity on Blaine, since he looked so alone on the other side of the bed, but the truth was that he needed the contact just as much as Blaine did. He rolled towards his husband and took him into his arms, holding him all night, although they didn’t speak much, and neither was able to sleep.

* * *

Morning found them dressing tensely, Kurt attempting to find something that he was willing to wear to work that was “loose and easy to slip out of” as instructed. He finally settled on a tailored designer suit that fit the description only because he had lost so much weight. He made a mental note to have it altered next week. Kurt didn’t eat, not because he had any intention of taking advantage of the offer of medication to relax or sedate him, but because he was too nervous. Blaine was worried: about the test, about the results, about Kurt in general. The doctor had said the test could be painful; Kurt did not handle pain well, and Blaine told himself he’d feel better if Kurt agreed to the medication. Broaching the subject, however, only earned him Kurt’s bitch glare, so he fell into silence as they made their way down to the car.

Once at Dr. Miles office, they were greeted by a nurse. She instructed Blaine to wait in the outer office. As Kurt followed her deeper into the office, she asked him if he still wanted to proceed with only the local anesthetic, and he told her he did. She led him into a procedure room, similar to an exam room, but larger and with more equipment, and told him to undress and put on a gown, then lie down on his side on the table in the room. Kurt did as he was told, lying down facing the door and with his back to a tray of instruments and tubes that he didn’t even want to think about. After several minutes, during which he had entirely too much time to think about exactly what was about to happen and what it might mean, Dr. Miles came in.

“Hi, how are you doing this morning?” She greeted him.

“Just peachy,” Kurt replied somewhat sarcastically.

“Still haven’t changed your mind about the meds, I see. This is your last chance before we get started. Are you sure you don’t want to have a sedative or something to relax you?”

“I’m sure,” Kurt answered, sounding a lot more certain than he felt.

“Okay. Well, let’s get started,” she said, moving around behind Kurt. Two nurses, the one from before and another, had come into the room as well. The one from earlier went to stand with Dr. Miles. The other introduced herself as Susan, and told Kurt to just hold on to her and squeeze her hands if he needed to, but to stay still. Apparently, her job was mostly to keep him calm and make sure he didn’t move. She positioned his upper leg with the knee bent toward his chest. “I’m going to talk you through what we’re doing as we do it.”

“I don’t really want to know,” Kurt protested.

“I need you to be still, so you’re going to need to be prepared for what you’re going to feel. First, we’re going to clean the area where we’ll be working. It’s going to feel cold,” Dr. Miles continued. Kurt felt the gown being opened in back, and the bottom of the gown was laid over his upper hip. He could feel the blush spreading over his face and body, and wished he was anywhere else. Then he felt something cold and wet, and goose bumps joined the blush. “Next is a drape. There’s a little bit of adhesive on it to keep it in place, so it’ll feel a little sticky.” Kurt felt the drape, and was glad for the coverage, even if it did leave a large section of his bottom exposed. “Now you’re going to feel a little bit of a bee sting. That’s the local. Then we’ll give it a few minutes to work.” Kurt had never been stung by a bee, and he didn’t want to if that’s what it felt like. A few minutes later, Dr. Miles said, “I’m going to see if you’re numb yet. Let me know if you feel this.”

“Yes, I feel that!” Kurt exclaimed upon feeling a something sharp poke him on one buttock.

“Okay, we’re going to give you a bit more.” Kurt felt another “bee sting,” although not as bad as the first one. After a little while, Dr. Miles asked him if he could feel her poking him, and he answered that he could not. “Good. Now we’re going to give you more, to numb you deeper.” Kurt felt pressure and it was uncomfortable, but not terribly painful. “I gave you more than normal, and I’m going to wait a little longer than usual, since it seems pretty hard to get you numb.” This wasn’t news to Kurt. As if he needed any additional reasons for excellent oral hygiene, the few times he’d had to have anesthetic at the dentist had gone much like this: it took more anesthetic than it did for most people to get him numb, and took longer than it should, facts no dentist ever seemed to remember. 

Several minutes later, she told Kurt, “We’re about to get started. You’re going to feel a lot of pressure.” Kurt felt a great deal of pressure, like something was attempting to press all the way through him, that lasted several seconds. “Now we’re going to take the first sample. You might feel some pain. It won’t last long.” Before she finished speaking, Kurt felt a pulling sensation and a sharp pain. Shit, that hurt, he thought. He squeezed his eyes shut and held onto Susan’s hands for dear life. A few seconds later, the pain ebbed. “Almost done. We’re going to take the last sample now. You’re going to feel a lot of pressure and it may hurt a little bit.” He felt the pressure again, and then, an aching feeling. It felt a little like the time he had fallen during a rehearsal in high school and gotten a bad bruise on his hip. After about a minute, the ache subsided, and he heard Dr. Miles say, “All done. We’re going to put pressure on the site for a few minutes and then apply a dressing. You can take the bandage off about this time tomorrow.” Thanks to the local, Kurt really couldn’t feel her doing any of this. Finally she said, “Okay, we’re going to leave you alone so you can get dressed.” Dr. Miles and the nurses left the room, and Kurt sat up slowly and slid off the table to dress.

Once dressed, he left the procedure room. Susan was waiting for him. As she walked with him toward the outer office, she told him he would probably be sore for a few days, and then told him what to watch out for, and what warranted a call to Dr. Miles. Finally, she told him Dr. Miles would have his results on Monday, and handed him a card with an appointment time set for Monday morning. As he walked through the door, Blaine, looking very worried, jumped up and ran to him. He had spent the time thumbing through every magazine in the room, not reading any of them. “Are you okay? Do you need to go home?”

“Yes, I’m fine, just a little sore. They said I would be for a couple of days. No, I don’t need to go home. I need to go to work. You didn’t need to wait. I could have made it to work on my own.”

“First, I would never leave you during this. If they had let me, I would have been in there with you. Second, where would I go? Broadway isn’t known for attracting morning people. I’m not sure Adam even has a pulse at this hour.” Kurt smiled.

Blaine desperately wanted to take Kurt into his arms, but was afraid to touch him; he didn’t want to hurt him. He kept reaching toward him but then dropping his hands. Kurt sighed. “Blaine, I’m not going to break. Right now, I’m still kind of numb, so I won’t feel as much. However, if you start with the nonstop touching again I swear I’m going to scream. I’d say I’d slap you, but you know I won’t. The screaming, however, is not an idle threat.” Blaine grinned at that, then reached out and took Kurt’s hand.

Kurt filled Blaine in on the timing of the results and the next appointment as they got in the car for the trip to Kurt’s office. Blaine went up with him and stayed near him for the next hour, as Kurt tried to work without tripping over him. Finally, Kurt told Blaine to send the car for him that evening and to leave, as he was both distracting and in the way. Kurt was relieved when Blaine left. The local was wearing off, and he was quite sore, but didn’t want Blaine to know. The nurse had told him this was normal, and there wasn’t anything Blaine would be able to do about it, but he would worry. He spent the rest of the day trying to ignore the aching and get work done, while trying to figure out how he could move or sit that would minimize the discomfort.

* * *

Blaine spent most of the morning until Adam and Paul arrived going over Adam’s notes regarding the minor parts, most of which had to do with the candidates’ dancing abilities, or lack thereof. He added his own notes and then went over both together and made a list of probable callbacks. He would review them with Adam once he came in, then give the list to Paul. He then made notes for his scheduled meetings with the set and costume designers. 

Once Adam arrived he said, “Okay, Blaine, I was expecting a call last night and I didn’t get one. What’s going on? Spill it.”

Blaine sighed, “We really don’t know anything for sure yet, and I promised Kurt I wouldn’t talk to anyone about it until we know what’s actually going on. I’ll tell you as soon as I can, but it looks like it’ll be next week sometime. That’s all I can say without bringing Kurt’s wrath down on my head.”

Adam’s bitch glare was almost as good as Kurt’s. Almost. Having lived with Kurt’s, however, for over thirty-five years, Blaine was pretty immune to anyone’s other that Kurt’s and Ellie’s. When the glare failed, Adam pulled out his phone and, looking at Blaine defiantly, selected a number. “Hey, Kurt. It’s Adam. What the Hell’s going on? Blaine won’t tell me anything.” There was a pause. “What do you mean there’s nothing to tell? There’s definitely something to tell.” Another pause. “Why are you shutting me out?” Pause. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?” Pause. “Fine. You know I’m going to find out eventually. I’ll make it my mission. Now at least I know what I’m doing this weekend.” With a huff, he returned to his chair next to Blaine.

“Are you ready to actually work now?” Blaine questioned. Adam glared, but then settled in to go over the callback list.

The rest of the day passed in the usual whirlwind of meetings associated with a new show, and Blaine focused on his work. Doing so made him feel better, and he was able to lose himself in it for a while and the fear retreated to the back of his mind.

* * *

As evening fell, Blaine called for the car. He had Carolyn stop at his favorite farmer’s market, where he picked up salad ingredients, something for dessert, as well as tomatoes, garlic, fresh basil and creamy goat’s cheese. They then stopped at his favorite Italian market for fresh pasta and a loaf of bread from their bakery. Finally, they made their way to Kurt’s office. 

Blaine found Kurt sitting behind his desk. As Blaine came in, Kurt smiled, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Holding out on Adam.”

“I can deal with Adam being mad at me. You’re a bit tougher. I wish none of this was happening, but we’ll deal with it together. Right now I just want to do what’s best for you. I’m not sure that this, this closing everyone out, is what you need, but if you say it is, I’ll go with it for now.” Blaine bent down and kissed Kurt’s temple. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. I just keep debating what I’m going to do at the shows. I have about four different plans, and they’re all done, but I keep going back and forth about which one I’m actually going to go with.” Kurt answered.

“Well, take everything you might want to work on home. I know better than to try to keep you from working all weekend, but I do want you to stay home. No going in to work for either of us. We’re going to sleep in, get takeout, lie on the couch and watch movies, go to bed early.” Blaine informed Kurt.

“Blaine, I know I’ve been tired, but that sounds like an awful lot of rest, even for me right now.” Kurt said.

“I didn’t say we were necessarily going to sleep a lot. Don’t you remember our lazy weekends years ago, in college, and then when we first got married?” Blaine inquired, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Kurt smiled at the memory. “Oh, so that’s why you want to stay in. It has nothing to do with being tired or what’s going on. I’m all for it.” And with that, he proceeded to scoop the papers he had been studying into a stack which he dumped unceremoniously into his messenger bag. He had finally managed to find a comfortable position, and had stayed in it for quite some time. As he stood up quickly, he realized not moving might not have been the best idea. An expression of pain crossed his face, and he wasn’t quick enough to hide it from Blaine.

“Baby, are you okay? You’re not. How bad does it hurt?” Blaine peppered him with questions, answering some of them for himself, as he reached for Kurt to help him stand.

“I’m fine. They said I’d be sore for a few days, and that’s all it is. I’m just sore. It feels a little bit like a bad bruise. It’s just that I found a position that made it a little better, and so I didn’t move for a while. I guess the not moving added stiff to sore and it’s not a great combination.” Kurt explained, hoping Blaine would accept it and calm down. It truly wasn’t anything more than they’d told him to expect.

“I think we should call the doctor.” Okay, so he hadn’t calmed down yet.

“My turn. I’m putting my foot down. You’ve been running this show all week, and I’ve put up with it, but I know what they told me. This isn’t unexpected. I tried taking some Motrin earlier and it really didn’t make much of a difference. We are not going to call the doctor to report feeling the way she told me I’d feel. It’s really not too bad. I’m moving carefully and I’m not going to win any races for the next couple of days, but I’m fine,” Kurt insisted.

Blaine put his arm around Kurt and took his messenger bag from him. “Okay. We won’t call, as long as it doesn’t get worse. If it gets worse, I’m back in the driver’s seat.” He was clearly still not happy about the situation, but was giving in for the moment. 

The two headed to the car, Kurt moving stiffly and Blaine supporting him. Once in the car, Blaine reached out to brush Kurt’s cheek, and Kurt leaned into his touch slightly, turning his head to kiss Blaine’s palm. Blaine realized that although Kurt still seemed very tired, despite last night’s lack of sleep and what he knew had to have been a rough morning, he seemed a bit less exhausted than he had earlier in the week, and his face was cool. “I think your fever’s gone. That’s good.”

“I think you’re right. Can we just go with that and not check? Daniel wasn’t worried about the fever itself, and didn’t want me to do anything about it, so we don’t need to know for sure. I feel better though.” Kurt knew that while his fever was down right now, and he felt okay, both might be due to the Motrin he’d taken earlier, but he didn’t want to say that. He’d taken it to ease the achiness, which it hadn’t done, but it did seem to reduce the fever and make him feel better. He thought to himself that he should take some more if he could do it without Blaine knowing. 

“Sure.” Despite his worry over Kurt’s pain and the test results, it made Blaine feel better to know the fever was down and Kurt felt better. “Remember how I was going to cook yesterday but we ended up going out? Well tonight, my love, I am making you dinner.”

Kurt started to open his mouth but Blaine interrupted, “And no, it’s not PB and J. Or any other kind of sandwich.”

Kurt laughed. “When do I get to find out what I’m eating?”

“When it appears on the table in front of you, Darling.”

“Hints?”

“Nope,” Blaine said smugly. Kurt ran his hand up Blaine’s thigh. Blaine groaned. “That’s not fair.”

“I never claimed to play fair,” Kurt replied.

Blaine, however, couldn’t be moved, at least not by anything Kurt was willing to do in the car with Carolyn in the front seat.

* * *

By the time they arrived home, the earlier movement had eased Kurt’s stiffness somewhat, and while he was still sore, he was moving a bit easier. They made their way to the apartment, and Blaine instructed Kurt to go find a movie and set it up, while he disappeared into the kitchen with the groceries. A few minutes later, Kurt peeked into the kitchen to see Blaine chopping tomatoes, basil and garlic next to a serving bowl that already contained crumbled goat cheese, salt, pepper and olive oil, while a pot of water heated on the stove.

“Need help?” Kurt asked.

“No. Get out of the kitchen. This is supposed to be a surprise,” Blaine scolded.

“Too late. You know, it is possible to chop things uniformly so that everything is the same size,” Kurt chided.

“It’s rustic. Go away.” Blaine shooed Kurt out of the room.

Ten minutes later Blaine called Kurt into the breakfast room. Everything had gone into the serving bowl, along with the hot pasta, creating a creamy sauce spiked with garlic, tomatoes and basil. He placed the serving bowl on the table, next to a bowl of salad and a loaf of hot bread. Kurt stopped in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, and just breathed in the heavenly aroma. “I love this. I love you,” he said.

“You just love me for my cooking skills,” Blaine shot back, eliciting a snort from Kurt.

“Right. You mean your cooking skill, singular?” Clearly Kurt was feeling better, if he was up to his usual sarcastic commentary.

“I have many skills,” Blaine said, pretending to be hurt.

“Oh, I know you do, Love,” Kurt answered, advancing into the room and running his hand down Blaine’s chest, over his shirt, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Blaine. “Just not in the kitchen.”

“Since when do we limit ourselves based on what room we’re in?” Blaine asked, voice low and husky.

“Hmmmm. I’ll have to give that some thought during dinner,” Kurt said. He liked the way this evening was going much better than their last dinner at home. And while he hadn’t been hungry all day, smelling the pasta had caused his mouth to water, and he found himself actually hungry for the first time since, well, since he wasn’t even sure when. He took his seat across from Blaine, and found himself torn between reaching to touch Blaine and eating. He settled on slipping his feet from his shoes and using them to torture Blaine under the table, which left his hands free to eat. The best of both worlds.

Kurt ate only a few bites of salad and a little bread, neither of which really tempted him. Blaine kept shooting him worried glances, until he started eating the pasta. Blaine had made this pasta because he knew Kurt loved it, and this time was no exception. While the amount of pasta Kurt ate was small compared to what Blaine ate, he ate enough to cause Blaine to stare in wonder and delight until Kurt noticed the attention and said, “What? Do I have food on my face?”

Blaine laughed and said, “No. I just love you. I’m so glad you’re eating.”

Kurt felt a little guilty about how worried Blaine had been, but tried to keep the mood light. “Well, when presented with something this good, of course I’m eating. Apparently tonight I have a bit of an appetite.” He stared into Blaine’s eyes meaningfully, causing Blaine to shiver a little with anticipation. Well, the stare and the effect of Kurt’s toes on his legs.

They finished the rest of the meal chatting lightly about safe topics, staying away from anything health related. The test results and Kurt’s health hung over them, and they didn’t talk about the future beyond the weekend. There was too much uncertainty, too much they didn’t know, too much to fear. So they talked about the weekend, about work, and about friends. Anything safe.

As they finished eating, Blaine once again sent Kurt out. “I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up. Go change into something comfortable. I’ll change in a minute. Then we can watch the movie. What is it, by the way?”

“Not telling,” Kurt laughed. Okay, Blaine guessed he deserved that. He smiled. He cleaned the kitchen quickly, then headed toward the bedroom to change, pausing to give Kurt a slow kiss on the lips on the way. 

Once both men were in sweats and comfy old long-sleeved tee shirts, they settled in to watch the movie, safe in each other’s arms. Kurt grabbed the remote, and soon they were watching Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan drive to New York. Kurt had considered Titanic, but given the ending, and everything going on in their life right now, he decided something a bit lighter was in order. After about half an hour, Blaine nudged Kurt into a sitting position, then paused the movie and got up.

“Where are you going?”

“To get dessert. You’ll like it. It’s a surprise,” Blaine headed for the kitchen.

Kurt called after him, “Really, Sweetheart, I love you, but I ate so much at dinner. I’m not hungry and I don’t think I can handle eating anything else.”

Blaine answered, “It’s light, and you’ll like what I have planned.” Something about his voice told Kurt that dessert wasn’t just about food tonight, which made it sound a lot more interesting.

Soon, Blaine returned with two good-sized bowls, which he placed on the table behind him as he settled back into his spot behind Kurt, stretching out so that Kurt was settled between his legs, back against his chest. He turned the movie back on, then wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist. Kurt sighed contentedly as he settled back into Blaine, placing his hands over Blaine’s. “Dessert?” He inquired.

“In due time,” Blaine replied, “for now, just relax and watch the movie.” They watched Harry and Sally’s relationship unfold for a few more minutes, just savoring the familiar story and even more familiar feel of the other’s body relaxed against their own, before Blaine reached behind him and plucked a ripe strawberry from one bowl, dipping it in fresh whipped cream from the other. He brought it to Kurt’s mouth and whispered in a low voice, “Eat, my Love.”

Kurt bit the berry away from the cap, groaning at both the sweet, juicy flavor of the fruit and the romantic way it was fed to him. After swallowing, he turned his face up to Blaine’s, stretching a little so he could kiss Blaine without shifting too much from his current position. In a low voice, he said, “You were right. I think I’m really going to like this dessert.”

Blaine continued to feed Kurt berries every few minutes, eating some himself in between. Kurt made no more protests about lack of appetite. After several strawberries made their way unerringly into Kurt’s mouth, Blaine “missed,” leaving tiny dollops of whipped cream on Kurt’s nose and chin. “I’m so sorry, Baby, let me clean you up,” he said, leaning down to lick and kiss away the offending cream. Kurt rolled over in his arms and pulled himself up Blaine’s body, taking Blaine’s lips in a deep kiss. “God, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this, so much,” Blaine breathed against his mouth.

The movie continued to play in the background, but neither noticed it, nor did they notice when it ended. They spent the rest of the evening relearning each other’s bodies, how they’d each changed without the other noticing: Kurt had become so much thinner, more fragile feeling to Blaine; Blaine seemed to Kurt to have aged, deep worry lines appearing where none had been before. They made love slowly, gently, carefully; it took trial and error to find a position that didn’t cause Kurt’s hip and buttock to hurt worse, but he wanted this, and he almost grew annoyed with Blaine treating him as if he was going to break, but he knew the care was born of Blaine’s love for him. Afterwards, they looked up to see the menu screen, then looked at each other and laughed.

Blaine picked Kurt up and carried him to bed. He got a washcloth and cleaned any trace of their lovemaking from both their bodies, then kissed Kurt deeply and told him to sleep. “I still have to moisturize and –“ Kurt protested.

“Shhh,” Blaine shushed him with a kiss. “Not tonight. I’m going to clean up the living room and then come right to bed. I expect to find you here waiting for me when I get back.” Blaine then left Kurt in bed. He took the bowls to the kitchen, eating the last few strawberries on the way, then rinsing the bowls and putting them in the dishwasher and setting it. Back in the living room, he turned off the television and gathered up the clothes scattered around the room. Taking the clothes back to the hamper in the closet, he decided against pajamas. Kurt was already in bed, naked, and it had been a while since they had slept together naked. Too long, he thought. Soon, he was in bed, taking a drowsy Kurt into his arms, nuzzling his hair, and vowing to himself to do this more often, to not let opportunities like this one, this evening, slip away again, and thinking sadly about how many nights like this they had lost to work or other distractions. Suddenly, this was very, very important. Missing something like this once in a while had never been that big of a deal, because the future chances were endless; now, a deep ache in his chest told him they might be much more limited than they had ever imagined. Pushing his dark thoughts away with effort before his tears could begin to flow, he held Kurt tighter, living in that moment, reveling in his husband’s scent filling his nose, the feel of his body curled against his own. He fell asleep holding the only thing, the only person, he had ever needed to be happy, fulfilled, alive.

* * *

Kurt awoke the next morning, correction, afternoon, smiling, remembering the night before. Remembering creamy, garlicky pasta, strawberries and cream, and sweet, tender lovemaking. Feeling Blaine’s body against his in the bed, still naked. This was real, he thought. Maybe the previous week had just been a nightmare, the product of too much work, too little sleep, and not enough time together. He stretched, and the pain in his hip told him otherwise immediately. Wincing, he thought, okay, not a nightmare. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. Ready to wake up?” Blaine asked.

Kurt made an effort to not let Blaine see the pain he felt. “Yeah. How long have you been awake?”

“A while. I was just enjoying holding you, watching you sleep, the little faces you make, and the noises.” Blaine smiled at him.

“Stalker,” Kurt shot back, “And I do NOT make noises in my sleep!”

“Hah. You do too. Are you ready to shower, or would you prefer a bath?”

Pretending to pout, Kurt growled playfully, “Are you suggesting I stink?”

“Never,” came the loving reply, “But I do know you all too well, and I’m amazed you didn’t get up in the middle of the night to shower. Now which will it be?”

“Shower,” Kurt answered. 

Blaine rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom to start the shower, then returned to the bedroom to find Kurt rising slowly and stiffly from the bed. “Let me help you,” he said, putting one arm around Kurt’s waist and grabbing one of Kurt’s hands with his free hand.

“I can do it myself,” grumbled Kurt testily, but he accepted the help. Once in the bathroom, Blaine followed him into the shower. “Planning to continue last night?” he asked.

“Mmm. Tempting, but no. I was, however, planning on making sure you didn’t fall. You don’t seem too steady today,” Blaine answered. He had noticed that Kurt seemed a little warm again as well, but didn’t want to start an argument about whether he had a fever.

It wasn’t the reply Kurt wanted. “I’m fine, just sore. I can do it myself.”

“Well, I want to bathe you, so humor me,” Blaine said. He grabbed Kurt’s shampoo and washed his hair, then reached for Kurt’s favorite shower gel and lathered a loofah. He lathered Kurt’s body slowly and carefully, the experience, as it always did when they shared a shower, turning more romantic than planned. He paused when he reached the bandage. “When can this come off?” He asked.

“They said this morning, so I guess now.”

“Do you want me to take it off?” Blaine inquired.

“Yeah.” Kurt braced himself, waiting for the pain. The hot water, however, had loosened the adhesive, so it pulled off much more easily than he expected. What he was not anticipating was the choked gasp he heard from Blaine, who was staring at the dark bruise left over from the procedure. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“It just, um, it’s just bruised. I guess I wasn’t expecting it.” Blaine answered him, fighting back tears. He didn’t know why he was surprised, or why it hit him so hard, but it did. It also effectively killed the mood, so he hurriedly bathed himself and then turned off the water, reaching for a towel and drying Kurt before he dried himself to protect Kurt from getting chilled. He needed to escape for a moment, so he told Kurt to finish getting ready while he made brunch. He quickly brushed his teeth and threw on sweats before retreating to the kitchen. He knew Kurt’s moisturizing ritual would buy him about forty-five minutes to calm down and breathe.

In the kitchen, he leaned against the wall and took deep breaths until he no longer felt the urge to break down and cry. Once calmed, he pulled spinach, mushrooms, eggs and goat cheese from the refrigerator and began preparing an omelet, pouring juice and preparing bowls of mixed berries for the side. He was just placing the meal on the table when Kurt came into the room. Taking a deep breath, and bracing for a hostile response, he asked, “Baby, really, how are you feeling today?”

Resisting the urge to snap something sarcastic at him, Kurt sighed, “Okay. Last night may be proving that my stamina’s down a little, because I’m a bit tired today, and sore like the doctor said I would be. My hip feels like Swiss cheese.”

“Why don’t you eat and then try to take a nap?” Blaine suggested.

“Because I’m not a newborn and I’ve only been up about an hour. I need to get some work done.” Kurt lost the battle against sarcasm, but tried to temper it with at least a little reason. He sat down at the table and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. But I’ll be okay. You don’t need to baby me constantly.”

“I’ll try not to baby you as long as it seems like you’re making an effort to take care of yourself. Deal?” Blaine offered.

“Deal.” Kurt responded, beginning to toy with his omelet.

“That means eating, Sweetheart,” Blaine chided, “You like this, and you haven’t eaten in over twelve hours. You need this.” Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but the worry in Blaine’s eyes stopped him, and he quietly began to eat.

After brunch, Kurt insisted on helping to clean up, and then both retreated to their own side of the study to work quietly, separate yet close and together. As the shadows grew, Blaine set aside the sketches of sets and costumes he had been working on and moved behind Kurt, reaching out to rub his back. He circled Kurt’s waist with his other hand and nuzzled his neck. “Hungry?” He asked Kurt.

“Not really, but apparently you are,” Kurt chuckled. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s order in and put on a movie. We’ve both worked enough for today,” Blaine tugged Kurt out of his chair. Kurt laughed, and allowed himself to be led into the living room for dinner in front of the television, and a romantic movie marathon that they missed the end of. Again.

Sunday was spent quietly, full of gentle touches and quiet conversation. They stayed away from thoughts of what the next day might bring, living in the present, enjoying just being together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, if there are any medical errors, I apologize. I'm an attorney, not a doctor, and the medical stuff is based primarily on internet research. Second, please, please comment and let me know if you like the story, hate it, hate me (one of my good friends sent me messages that just read "I hate you" at various points while reading the story), whatever it is you're thinking, I want to hear it. Thanks so much for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get the results, and the kids find out . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really getting going now. Thanks so much for reading; I know this is hard right now. Please, please let me know what you think; I love comments, and I do read and respond to each and every one.

Chapter 25

Monday morning was tense. The appointment was at ten, so it didn’t make a lot of sense to go in to work. Blaine had already told everyone that he wouldn’t be in until afternoon, so there was no one to call, and no arrangements to make. Kurt tried to get Blaine to go to work and let him go to the appointment alone, but Blaine refused to consider it, arguing that Kurt would need someone with him to support him and advocate for him. Kurt thought Blaine would be more of a basket case than an advocate, but he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself. While what he told Kurt was the truth, Blaine was also worried that Kurt might just skip the appointment entirely. Both were too nervous to eat, and their attempts at conversation didn’t go well, so they puttered around the apartment, half avoiding each other, and trying to look as if they were doing something productive, although neither was.

Finally, it was time to go. The ride was spent making aborted attempts to discuss what might happen. After one or the other started a conversation with “What if . . .” half a dozen times, only to be shushed by the other telling him not to speculate until they knew what the doctor had to say, they gave up and just held hands until they reached the medical center. Upon arriving in Dr. Miles’ office, they waited nervously in the outer office until they were ushered back into her private office.

Shortly after they were seated in the office, Dr. Miles entered, a grim expression on her face. “Kurt, Blaine, it’s good to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances. Unfortunately, Kurt, the bone marrow biopsy did confirm that you have leukemia, specifically acute myeloid leukemia. The tests also indicate that it’s fairly advanced. We need to do a couple of more tests to determine whether or not it has spread, and then we’ll start treatment. I’m going to explain all that in a minute, but right now do you have any questions about the diagnosis itself?”

Blaine looked at Kurt, who appeared stunned. With tears running down his face, he asked softly, “What should we expect?” Inside his mind was screaming at him that this couldn’t be real; losing Kurt was not possible.

“Well, leukemia is generally considered very treatable. That’s the good news. The bad news is, as I said, his leukemia is pretty advanced, and Kurt is fifty-six, and we tend to have better results with younger patients, although he’s not elderly, which is good. That being said, I’m still optimistic. We will, of course, have to see whether or not it has spread; if it has, that’s not good – still not the end of the world, but it will make things more difficult and decrease the chances of a good outcome. We’ll also have to see how Kurt responds to treatment. Everyone is different, and some people do quite well while others that we would think would respond well don’t. We need to hope for the best.”

Kurt shook himself out of his daze. “When?” He was going to fight, he would beat this; he just had to get past the Fashion Weeks. “I can be back after the first week of March.”

Dr. Miles looked up sharply. “AML is very serious. If not treated, it can be fatal within a short period of time. We can’t wait until March. We need to start treatment now. I have your tests scheduled for this afternoon, and we should start treatment immediately afterwards.”

Kurt’s brain kicked into overdrive. It was late January. He had New York’s Fashion Week in less than a week, followed in quick succession by London, Milan and Paris. February for him was always about work; when he could, Blaine would go to Kurt, usually in Milan, for Valentine’s Day, or maybe London for his birthday, but it was always understood that Kurt’s shows would be the top priority in February. He spent most of the time between the September shows and now preparing for them. He could do the tests now, schedule treatment around his New York show, maybe skip an event or two, then see other doctors in London, Milan and Paris for whatever treatment was necessary during those shows. That could work. “The Fashion Weeks are about to start. It’s the busiest time of the year for me. Can’t I do the tests now, and just take whatever medicine I need to take during the shows? These shows are all in major cities with good doctors and hospitals. I could go see doctors around the shows and events, whatever I need to do. Just tell me, and I’ll do it, but I can’t cancel.”

Dr. Miles stopped him. “Kurt, I understand that you have things scheduled, but you’re either going to have to cancel, or have someone cover for you. We can’t delay treatment, and you’re going to be in the hospital. We’re going to admit you. You’ll have a lumbar puncture to see if there are leukemia cells in your spinal fluid, to see if it has spread to your spine. We’ll also do a PET scan to see if there are any signs that it has spread anywhere else, and we’ll be looking particularly closely at the swollen lymph nodes. They aren’t characteristic of this type of cancer, so I’m cautiously optimistic that they aren’t a sign of the leukemia spreading. Once we do those tests, we’ll be starting you on an intensive regimen of chemotherapy, by IV. That will take a week, but it will destroy a lot of bone marrow, both healthy and unhealthy. Your blood counts will drop, and it will be difficult for you to fight infection. You may need a transfusion. You are going to have to be very closely monitored. You’re going to be here between three and five weeks before you can go home, or anywhere else. On top of that, you won’t feel up to doing anything.”

“Can we have a minute alone, please?” Blaine interrupted. He knew he had to talk to Kurt now, get him to see reason. He had to get him to see beyond the next few weeks. 

“Sure. Then we can talk about Kurt’s treatment. We’ll talk about scheduling and about what to expect.” She stood and left the room.

Kurt turned to Blaine, “I can’t just cancel the shows. Buyers are coming in from all over the world for these shows, not just the host countries, as if they wouldn’t be enough. All the fashion magazines, everyone.”

Blaine decided to be blatantly honest. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to stay here. You don’t have to cancel the shows, but you have to send someone else. You’ve planned all the shows down to the last detail, and everyone who works for you knows how to follow your instructions to the letter. They can do this. It doesn’t mean they don’t need you, it means you’ve prepared them well. And these shows are not worth your life, no matter who is coming. You have to fight this disease, and you have to do it now. Later is not an option. You have to do it for yourself, and for me, and us, and the kids, and everyone else who loves you.”

“But I can’t-“ Kurt broke in.

“Yes, Baby, you can, and you will. It’s not what I want either, but we don’t have a choice. I wish it was different. I wish you were going to be off at the shows ignoring your phone when I try to call you. Maybe we’ll be back there next year. But this year, you’ll be here. Your plans, our plans, have changed.” Blaine was trying to be rational. He was trying to not cry anymore. And he was praying Kurt would give in.

“Who? Who do you think I can send?” Kurt demanded.

“Who were you going to take with you?” Blaine asked.

“Amanda. She always goes. She’s my best assistant designer.” Blaine knew this. A few years ago, Kurt began letting her have her own line under his label. She was the only designer he’d ever given this honor to, the only one he trusted enough. From a design standpoint, she was his right-hand man, so to speak. “And the usual team of dressers, make-up and hair people, the same ones who always go. But running it is too much for one person, especially if they’ve never done it before. Amanda can’t do it alone.”

“So, Amanda takes your place. She’ll need someone to help her. Fine. Who’s next on your list?”

As Blaine had known he would, Kurt answered without thinking or hesitation, “Jeremy.” Jeremy was young and ambitious. He reminded everyone who had known Kurt starting out in the fashion industry of a young Kurt, and Kurt liked him a great deal. He’d been toying with the idea of giving Jeremy his own line for about a year, but hadn’t pulled the trigger on it yet.

“Fine. It’s decided. Amanda will take over for you this year, and will execute your plan; Jeremy will help her. You’ll stay here and get better.”

“But – “ Kurt made a final attempt to protest.

“No buts. I’m going to get Dr. Miles. We need to talk about what’s going to happen.” Blaine stood and went to the door. Opening it, he told Dr. Miles they were ready to continue the conversation.

She reentered the room and took her seat. “Are we on the same page now, as far as the timing of your first treatment goes?” She inquired.

Blaine looked at Kurt, who was clearly still not fully on board, but was no longer actively protesting. “Yes,” he said, giving Kurt’s hand a squeeze.

“Okay. Good. As I was saying, you’ll enter the hospital today, and we’ll do a couple of more tests. I got a call while you were talking, and they need to push your PET scan back a few hours, so they’ll do it this evening. Once the tests are done, you’ll start chemotherapy. As I said, you’ll spend three to five weeks in the hospital, depending on how you respond to the chemo and how well you recover. This first phase is called induction chemotherapy. If all goes well, and tests show that the induction chemo has eliminated the detectable leukemia, you’ll go through several rounds of what we call consolidation therapy. The goal of consolidation therapy is to clean up any cancer cells that weren’t killed by the induction therapy, but aren’t showing up in your bone marrow biopsies. Doing this reduces your chances of relapse. Assuming all goes well with the chemotherapies, with your type of cancer, your best chances for a good long term outcome will be with a bone marrow transplant. Your best probability for a match will be with a full sibling.”

“I’m an only child.” Kurt stated quietly.

“It’s certainly not your only option. What about other blood relatives?”

Kurt shook his head. “No.”

Blaine interrupted, “We have a daughter. Biologically, she’s Kurt’s. She’s his only living blood relative.”

Again, Kurt said, “No.”

Looking at him, Blaine began, “Baby, we have to –“

“I said no,” Kurt snapped, “I don’t want Ellie to go through what I went through.”

Dr. Miles broke in, telling him, “The test to see if she’s a match is painless and non-invasive. It’s just a cheek swab. Unless she’s a match, that’s all we do.”

“I don’t want her in the position of having to do any of it.” Kurt stated with finality.

“She’s an adult,” Blaine pointed out, “She should be allowed to make this decision on her own. She can decide if she’s willing to do what is necessary to help you, if she’s a match. And if you don’t give her the opportunity, she’s going to kill us both.” He was well aware that Ellie would be willing to die for Kurt, for either of them if the truth be told. There was no doubt in his mind that she would be tested, and that she would willingly donate bone marrow if she was a match.

“Not if she doesn’t know about it,” Kurt said.

“If you have no living blood relatives willing to be tested, or if none of them are a match, we look for a match among non-relatives, but it will be harder to find a match. Which still does not mean impossible, so don’t give up,” Dr. Miles continued.

“We’ll discuss this later.” Blaine had to get Kurt to come around. The doctor had made it clear that Ellie was Kurt’s best chance, and he knew she’d be willing; he just had to get Kurt to agree. He couldn’t give up this easily.

Dr. Miles was ready to move on, and let the two men work this out amongst themselves. “We’re a long way from being ready for that. Let’s talk about what you can expect immediately. As I said, you’re going to be in the hospital for three to five weeks.”

Kurt seemed to register that he would be staying not just in New York, but in the hospital, for the first time. “Wait – can’t I stay at home, just come in during the day for treatment?” And here we go, thought Blaine. He knew Kurt had never spent a night in the hospital, whether as a patient or not, other than when acting as a coach for Jess. When his mom was ill, he was much too young to be permitted to stay with her, and the same determination had been made, over his objections, when his father was ill when he was in high school. During Burt’s later illnesses, Kurt had either been away or had deferred to Carole, allowing her to spend the night with her husband. And when Ellie was born, they refused to let either of them stay with her through the night; that dubious privilege was reserved for parents who might lose their children during the night, and thank God, she was never that critical, mostly needing to grow and gain the ability to regulate certain functions and gain skills she should have gotten in the womb. So home, great. Hotels, fine, although he never slept as well when away from home. Hospitals, no. The thought that for at least the next three weeks the hospital would become his home was incomprehensible to him. “My dad had cancer, but never stayed in the hospital for treatment. I’ve known other people who had cancer and just went in during the day. Can’t I do that?”

Dr. Miles answered apologetically. “No. I’m sorry. Your chemo regimen will be very, very intense, and there will be a lot of side effects. We need to manage your health in the hospital. Let’s talk about what you can expect.” Kurt still seemed to be in shock. He didn’t say anything. “As I told you earlier, your blood counts will drop. That means that you’ll be more susceptible to infection. Depending on how you’re doing, we may decide to give you antibiotics to prevent infection, or we may hold off, and just treat any infection you get if you actually do get one. My leaning, right now, is to go ahead and give you antibiotics as you already seem to be trying to fight something off, so your resistance is low right now and it’s only going to get worse. You’ll probably start bruising easier, and you may have other bleeding issues due to low platelets. We can give you a transfusion of platelets if necessary, but that’s something we’ll have to watch closely.” Blaine winced inwardly. The bruising could get worse? He couldn’t imagine how it could get worse than it already was. Dr. Miles continued, “You may also have to have transfusions of red cells, if you become too anemic. The anemia, which is expected, will make you tired, even more than you have been, and you may become short of breath, because you don’t have enough red cells to carry the oxygen your body needs. You may become nauseous, and may have problems with vomiting and diarrhea. These issues used to be much worse, but now we have much better drugs to control them. We’ll go ahead and give them to you in the hospital, and when you go home, we’ll send some home with you. You may get mouth sores. Things may taste different, and you may lose your appetite.”

“He hasn’t had an appetite for a while,” Blaine interjected.

“That’s not surprising. We’ll work with a nutritionist and try to find things that still taste okay and that he can tolerate. There are no dietary restrictions, so anything he can keep down and that tastes good to him is fine. One major focus will be to keep him hydrated, although he’s already underweight, so we’ll be trying to keep him from losing any more weight as well.” Kurt didn’t seem focused on the discussion. “Moving on, Kurt.” He looked up at that, bringing his attention back to Dr. Miles again. “You will lose your hair, all of it – on your head, eyelashes, eyebrows, body hair.”

“No, no, no, no!” Kurt stopped her. “Like I told everyone years ago in Glee club when Coach Sylvester threatened to shave my head, I cannot rock that look!”

“What?” Blaine was confused. The fact that Kurt wouldn’t want to lose his hair didn’t surprise Blaine at all. Even at fifty-six, he still had a thick, gorgeous head of hair that was just beginning to show signs of greying, and he was still emphatic that it always be perfect; Blaine was the only one allowed to see it any other way. He just couldn’t figure out how their old cheerleading coach had anything to do with Kurt’s hair. They had both been cheerleaders at one point or another, and while the coach had been a stickler about how everyone’s hair was done, Kurt’s carefully styled mane had always been well within her permissible limits.

“It was before we met. Somehow she worked her way into being co-sponsor of the glee club, and in an effort to destroy us, she separated out the minorities, and made her own sub-group. She threatened to shave my head if I talked to anyone still in Mr. Schue’s group.”

Blaine still didn’t understand. “I hate to be the one to have to point this out, but you are a white male. How were you a minority, especially at McKinley High?”

“A gay white male.” Kurt clarified.

“Oh.” Now it made sense. A twisted kind of sense, but when it came to Coach Sylvester, that was about the only kind there was. “First, you can rock any look you choose to. You’ve always been able to. Second, like the rest of this situation, you really don’t have a choice.”

Kurt shot him a pleading look.

“I’m sorry, Baby. Look at it this way. It’s an opportunity for hats. Set a new trend. You know as well as I do your look gets copied, no matter why you do it.” It was true. Kurt’s penchant for layers, born partially from his fashion sense, but primarily from his intolerance to cold, had been dictating men’s winter fashion for several years, despite the fact that Kurt himself designed predominantly for women. No one seemed to notice that more and heavier layers became trendier any time New York suffered a particularly cold winter. “Who knows? Maybe by the time your hair grows back, every man who pays attention to fashion will be shaving his head.”

That at least won Blaine a small smile. Kurt looked at the doctor and asked hesitantly, “Will it grow back?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Miles, smiling. “It will. It will take a few months after the end of chemo, but it will grow back. It may come in grey, which may or may not change. If you were younger, I’d say that eventually it would go back to your natural color, but at your age, it might stay grey. Frankly, I’m envious of your color. Without going into too much detail, I’m younger than you are, and I’ve been dying mine for years. But if it comes in grey, and you want to do something about it, I’ll give you my stylist’s number – she’s great. Your hair may also come in curly. That will probably change eventually.”

“Curly?” Kurt sounded incredulous, and looked at Blaine with a flabbergasted expression.

Blaine laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you to deal with it if it happens. It’s not the end of the world. I’ve lived with curls for fifty-four years, and I’ve somehow managed to survive.” Turning back to Dr. Miles, he asked, “When is he going in? Right now, or later today?”

“Well,” she answered, “I would have said now, but since the PET scan has been pushed back until later this evening, he should check in by mid-afternoon, around three. But Kurt, don’t eat after two o’clock.”

“At least I can pack,” Kurt said.

“You don’t want to bring much,” Dr. Miles said, “You’ll be in a gown most of the time, so you won’t need pajamas or clothes. A robe would be good. Toiletries if you have things that you particularly like. Nothing valuable. No jewelry.”

“What about my wedding ring?”

Dr. Miles sighed, “I can’t tell you not to wear it, but I will say that unfortunately, there have been instances in almost every hospital of jewelry disappearing, even jewelry that people were wearing. If no culprit is found, the official story is usually that it simply slipped off and got lost. If it were me, I’d leave it at home.”

Blaine reached out and took Kurt’s hand. “I’ll keep it, Sweetheart. It’ll be ready for you when you come home. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to it.”

“Okay,” Kurt said quietly.

“Do you have any more questions?” Dr. Miles asked.

“No,” Blaine said, and looked at Kurt, who shook his head.

“Then I will see you later this afternoon,” she said, standing and shaking hands with both men.

* * *

On the way to the car, Blaine called Max Brenner’s and got a lunch reservation for five. It was okay, but not one of their favorites, and it tended to be busy and crowded. However, it was closer to where both Ellie and Patrick worked than most of their favorite places. Kurt looked at him curiously. “We have to tell the kids.”

Kurt’s shoulders slumped. He knew that was the deal, and he knew Blaine would tell them whether he liked it or not. He decided to try for whatever he could get. “Fine. We tell them about the leukemia. But we do not mention transplants. Understand? I really mean it.”

Blaine wasn’t happy about it, but said, “Fine. I won’t talk about it today. But if they ask questions, I’m not lying. And if it comes to that, and you have to have a transplant, I will go to Ellie. I don’t want to lose you, and I know she’d agree with me.”

Staring straight ahead, Kurt said in a definitive tone, “It won’t come to that.”

In the car, each pulled out his phone and began to make calls. Blaine’s all went about the same way. “Hey, it’s Papa. Daddy and I need you to meet us for lunch at Max Brenner’s. Yes, today. No, it can’t wait. There’s news you need to hear. No, I can’t discuss it on the phone. Okay, we’ll see you in about an hour.”

Kurt’s calls were to work. He told Jenna to prepare a statement announcing his absence from the Fashion Week shows and panels due to personal reasons. He also told her to contact the panel organizers and find out who would accept Amanda as a substitute, and to tell the others that he had to withdraw due to unforeseeable and unavoidable circumstances, and that they should find someone to take his place. He then called Amanda and told her a health issue had come up and he had to pull out of the shows, and explained to her that she would take his place. He told her which of the many plans he had drawn up to use, and told her to prepare Jeremy to assist her. He explained to both women that he would be out of the office for a while, but would be in touch by phone. 

After Kurt hung up for the second time, Blaine asked, “Everything set up?”

Kurt responded, “As set up as I can get it from a phone in the back of a car when what needs to be happening is that I need to be in the office getting ready for my shows.”

That reminded Blaine that he needed to cancel his afternoon as well. He called Paul, then Adam. After a brief exchange, Kurt heard a terse, “Not yet. Soon. Look, you’ve been griping about wanting more responsibility, so step up to the plate and take some on, for God’s sake. If the meetings can’t be delayed, take them for me. Keep me in the loop, but this is nothing you can’t do. Fine. Goodbye.”

“Adam?” Kurt guessed. Adam had never been a writer, but had been claiming he wanted to direct and become more involved in production for a while, yet never seemed ready to do more than talk. He was a great dancer and choreographer, and quite a competent singer, and had been a great right-hand man to Blaine for years. The only great source of friction between them now was that Adam said he wanted more responsibility, yet never seemed to have the ambition to take it, and apparently was now reluctant when it was handed to him.

“Adam,” Blaine confirmed with a sigh.

The car pulled up to the restaurant with just over half an hour to spare. “Want to walk down to the Strand and see if we can find something to read? It sounds like you may have some time, and TV’s never really been your thing,” Blaine suggested. While the restaurant was just okay, the bookstore was one of their favorite haunts.

“Okay,” Kurt agreed.

Upon arriving, the two separated. Blaine looked through the mysteries and general fiction on the first floor, grabbing a few things that caught his eye. He peered around for Kurt, but couldn’t find him, so he called. “Where are you?”

“Second floor.”

“Be there in a second.” Blaine found Kurt a few minutes later with a small stack in the fashion section. Looking at his choices, he inquired, “Would you like to find something other than things you could have written better yourself and which won’t just piss you off?”

“I’m already pissed off.”

“Fine,” Blaine gave up, “Meet me downstairs at checkout in ten.” He then went back down to find something for Kurt to actually read, as opposed to look at and critique.

After checking out, they walked the block back to the restaurant. On the way, they discussed how to tell the kids. It did not go well, full disclosure battling against as little information as possible. By the time they arrived, each was annoyed with the other. 

Fortunately, Patrick was waiting just inside, and Ellie was stepping out of a cab. Each gave her a hug and kiss, then walked in to hug Patrick. Ellie wasted no time, asking “So what’s the big news?” 

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look, then Blaine said, “Let’s wait for the table and Ian.” 

“You probably woke Ian up when you called,” Ellie pointed out, “So he’s probably going to be late. I say we start without him.”

“He was probably rehearsing until late. His band does have a tour coming up,” Patrick, as usual, came to his brother’s defense.

“Yes, and we must all cater to the god of rock and roll,” Ellie shot back, rolling her eyes. “Eew. Your hands!” She exclaimed, finally focusing on her brother.

Patrick flushed slightly, looking at his paint stained hands. “Sorry. I was in the middle of a restoration. I’ll wash them again, but it probably won’t all come off.” With that, he headed toward the restrooms in the back of the restaurant.

“Ellie,” Kurt said quietly, “Please don’t fight with your brothers today.” She responded with a quiet huff, but then nodded.

As Patrick returned, Ian entered, sweeping the mop of straight black hair from his face. Ellie seemed poised to make a sarcastic remark, but looked to Kurt and quieted. The hostess called them, and they were seated.

It was Ian’s turn to ask, “So, what’s up?”

Kurt shook his head, “Not now. Let’s order first.” Ian and Ellie looked impatient. Patrick, ever the sensitive child, looked nervous. The waitress took their order. All three of their children looked from Blaine to Kurt and back. Kurt said, “After the food comes.”

Finally, the food arrived, and Ellie deemed the time right to push again. “Well?” She demanded.

Kurt toyed with his fruit and yogurt. He’d only ordered to appease Blaine, but couldn’t see any way to eat right now. He looked up at Blaine desperately. Blaine took his hand and squeezed it, then turned his gaze from Kurt to the kids. “Your Daddy hasn’t been feeling well lately, and so the doctors have been running some tests. He has leukemia.”

Patrick looked lost, Ian confused. Ellie took charge. “How serious is it? There are different types, right? What kind of treatment are they talking about? And what did you mean by ‘lately?’ How long has this been going on?”

Kurt didn’t look capable of speech at that point, so Blaine answered Ellie’s interrogation. “Apparently he’s been sick for a while, but neither of us really realized that it was more serious than just being tired and run down until last week.”

“And you didn’t think you needed to tell us?” She demanded.

“I didn’t want to scare anyone if it was a false alarm.” Kurt had regained his ability to speak, unwilling to let Blaine face Ellie’s anger alone. “And the doctor seems to think it’s pretty serious. It is acute, and they’re putting me in the hospital later today to run more tests and start chemotherapy. Apparently I have to stay there for a few weeks.”

“Wait – what about Fashion Week?” If nothing else about Kurt’s career had soaked in, Ian had managed to remember that the month that was “Fashion Week” was important, and he thought it should be around now.

“I, um, I have to skip it this year,” Kurt said quietly. That silenced all three for a moment. None of them could fathom their Daddy skipping Fashion Week unless someone’s life was at stake. Somehow, the simple fact that he was not going made this much more serious and real.

Ellie was all business. If there was a problem, there was a solution. One simply had to find it. “Has the doctor discussed a way to cure it? What about a bone marrow or stem cell transplant? I’ve heard they can eliminate leukemia.”

Kurt shot a look at Blaine, which Ellie caught. “Don’t get mad at Papa. He didn’t mention anything other than that we had to meet you for lunch because there was news. Those transplants aren’t exactly a secret. They are discussed in the news, which unlike others in this family, I do keep up on. But by the look I’m guessing the topic has come up with your doctor, and you don’t want us to know. Why?”

True to his word, Blaine hadn’t mentioned the possibility of a transplant, but he would not lie or deflect Ellie’s question. “Your Daddy’s best chance of finding a donor match is with a blood relative.”

“So, in other words, me.” Ellie stated simply.

“Yes.” Blaine answered, ignoring Kurt’s eyes desperately pleading with him to just shut up.

“From what the doctor said, and note that she never said the word cure, she just talked in terms of positive long term outcome, if it ever comes to that it will be months from now. And we’ll find another donor if I need one.” Kurt insisted.

“Why not me?” Ellie demanded.

“I’ve had to have bone marrow taken, for the biopsy. I know what it feels like. I don’t want you to go through that.” Kurt explained. Surely, she’d see reason. She had to, she was his daughter. But, said a voice deep inside his head, you’d never let anything stop you from helping someone you loved, not even pain.

“Ah. I see. Good thing it’s not your choice, and at this point what you want doesn’t count nearly as much as your health does.” Kurt opened his mouth to object only to have his daughter continue, “And, since I’m a legal adult, you really don’t have a say in whether I’m tested or not. I could be matched with you as a relative or as a stranger who just happens to match, but if I’m a match, you will be getting my bone marrow. Now eat. You clearly need to.” God help him when she joined forces with both Blaine and Dr. Miles. He’d never be permitted to make a decision by himself again.

Both boys jumped in, volunteering to be tested. Blaine took over. “Thank you. And I’m planning to be tested too, as I’m sure a lot of our friends will be. But, from what the doctor said, Ellie is our best shot, since she’s related by blood. If it were me, you’d be much better candidates than she would, but since it’s not me . . . .” He trailed off, wishing with all his heart that it was him, not Kurt.

The remainder of lunch was spent discussing the treatment plan, the few details they knew about the hospitalization, and other matters relating to Kurt’s health. Kurt, however, tried not to listen, tried not to participate, tried to pretend, for a little while longer, that none of this was happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I sound a little like a broken record, but I'm sorry if there are medical errors. It isn't my field, and I based it primarily on internet research, although I tried my best to be as accurate as possible. Thanks so much for reading. Please comment. I really do want to know what you think: love it, hate it, hate me, whatever.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight begins . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm not quite posting at the regular time; in eleven hours, when I'd normally post, I'll be out of pocket. I'm not going to lie . . . this is going to be a hard one. Thank you for reading, please comment, and please don't hate me!

Chapter 26

Once home again, a hurried packing session ensued. Kurt insisted on bringing pajamas, no matter what they said about being gowned, along with a robe and slippers. It was decided not to bring his laptop for now; Blaine would have it backed up so if something happened to it all the data could be recovered, then bring it later. A small personal Blu-ray player and Kurt’s favorite movies went into the bag, along with an iPod dock and his iPod. Finally, a few books, some from his selections and some from Blaine’s, went into his messenger bag, along with a sketchbook, notebook, and his pencils. It was decided that Blaine or Jenna would bring him work, but take it away when he wasn’t working on it to prevent theft or, just as bad, premature leaking of designs. After packing, it was time to go to the hospital.

Getting checking into the hospital was a confusing process of paperwork and insurance and questions before an orderly showed up with a wheelchair to take Kurt to his room. Kurt stared at the chair with disdain. “No.” It wasn’t a question. It was an outright refusal to get to his room in any way other than under his own power.

“But sir, it’s just hospital policy.” The orderly attempted to explain.

What he failed to take into account was that Kurt didn’t care. He’d never really complied with rules unless he wanted to, picking and choosing those he felt applied to him. In the end, faced with having to explain he’d let a seriously ill cancer patient leave without treatment over a dispute about complying with the hospital’s wheelchair policy or letting Kurt have his way, the orderly gave up. Blaine carried Kurt’s overnight bag, while Kurt carried his messenger bag. The orderly managed to adapt fairly well to his new role as tour guide, showing them where they could purchase food within the hospital, giving somewhat humorous reviews of the quality of food and service in each location, pointing to the various gift shops, and explaining the patient snack stations on the cancer floor, where Kurt’s room was located. Finally, they arrived at Kurt’s room, a small private corner room far from the elevator and the nurse’s station. “The advantage to being here is it’s a lot quieter than most of the floor, and you can at least have some hope that the nurses will feel less compelled to bother you all the time. The disadvantage is that if you need one of them, it can take a few minutes for them to get here, and some people have a hard time finding it.” The orderly said. “Welcome home.”

“This is not, and never will be, home. And I don’t intend to have many visitors, so I don’t need to be easy to find.” While Kurt had apparently accepted defeat in his battle not to be hospitalized, it was clear he was not planning to accept it gracefully.

“I’ll leave you to settle in. The nurse will be in shortly.” The orderly was clearly in over his head in dealing with Kurt, and knew it. He was looking for a means of escape by this time, and was visibly relieved to be leaving.

“Kurt, Baby, he was just trying to help. Please don’t lash out at people who are just trying to make things better for you.” Blaine pleaded. Kurt brought his head up and Blaine found himself on the receiving end of a full-blown diva bitch glare. “Fine. Try this. Don’t be bitchy to people trying to help you who don’t know you. You can continue to abuse the rest of us if you feel it’s necessary.”

Kurt turned his back and walked across the room to stand by the built in couch under the window. He seemed unwilling to touch anything in the room. Blaine walked over to him and tried to rub his back, but he stiffened under the gentle touch. Finally, Blaine gave up, backing away and slumping into one of the two chairs in the room to await the nurse.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality a few minutes, a tall brunette wearing royal blue scrub pants and a tie-dyed scrub top came in. “Hi, I’m Miranda. I’m going to be your nurse this afternoon and evening.” She walked over to a white-board, visible from the bed. As she wrote her name and a few others on the board, she told them, “Everyone who is responsible for your care at any given time will write their name on the board, so you’ll always know who to call and what our names are. Don’t worry about trying to remember – sometimes chemo can mess with your short term memory. You’ve got a pretty full afternoon scheduled, so why don’t we get started? Your gown is on the bed. Your . . .” She looked at Blaine.

“Husband.” Kurt supplied shortly.

“. . . Husband and I can step out for a minute while you put it on.”

“I brought pajamas. I would prefer to wear them.” Kurt told her. 

“Most days that’ll be okay, but at least until later tonight we need you in the gown. We have some tests to run, and you’ll need to be gowned for them, and we need to get your central line started, and they’ll want you gowned for that as well.” She said matter-of-factly.

“What?” Kurt asked.

“Did you want to know about the tests or the central line?” She asked.

“What is a central line?” Kurt clarified.

“It’s a catheter that we place into a large vein in your chest. It can stay in a lot longer than a regular IV, and it lets us give you multiple medications and draw blood without having to do lots of separate needle sticks.” Miranda explained.

“How long? How long will it be there?” Kurt questioned.

“At least as long as you’re here. You may go home with it.” She told him. “Don’t worry. If you do go home with it, we’ll teach you how to take care of it.”

“I don’t want to go home with it.” Kurt informed her.

“That’ll be up to your doctor. We’ll just have to see what she feels is appropriate when you’re to that point.” She said, ignoring Kurt’s murderous glare. “Do you prefer to be called Kurt or Mr. Hummel-Anderson?”

“I don’t care.” Kurt wasn’t going to make anything easy for anyone this afternoon.

Miranda turned to Blaine. “If you’ll just step out with me, Mr.-“

“Hummel-Anderson, but Blaine’s fine; it’s less confusing that way.” Blaine said, starting to follow her.

“He can stay, it’s not like he’s never seen me naked,” Kurt pointed out, thinking bitterly to himself that’s how we ended up here to begin with.

“I have a few matters to discuss with him, so we’ll just give you some privacy,” she told him, indicating to Blaine that he should step out. He did so, and she followed and closed the door.

“He seems pretty resistant to this process,” she said, looking at Blaine.

“Yeah. Not that anyone would ever choose this, and not that it wouldn’t be frightening for anyone, but he’s terrified, and he tends to lash out when he’s scared. His mom died of cancer when he was eight, and he hasn’t put much faith in the medical profession since. Add to that the fact that he’s a pretty private person about almost everything, and especially about his body. He really doesn’t like anyone other than me to touch him much. Handshakes are okay, hugs from a close friend or relative, but nothing else. So people poking and prodding, not to mention knowing details about his body, and how it’s functioning, are just nothing short of torture to him.” Blaine explained.

With a concerned look, Miranda continued, “He indicated to the orderly that there wouldn’t be many visitors. Is there any family? Do you have any friends? Support will be really important throughout this process, not only for him, but for you as well.” Some people simply had no friends or family close, but it hadn’t taken long working as a nurse in New York for Miranda to have encountered a number of gay people whose family and old friends had turned their backs on them upon realizing they were gay; in some of those cases, the betrayal had caused them to close themselves off to potential friendships due to fear of being hurt again.

Blaine smiled at that. “You may end up kicking a lot of people out of here. We have three kids. They’re grown and out of the house, but still live in Manhattan. Our fathers have both passed away, but we still have my mother and Kurt’s stepmother, as well as our brothers and Kurt’s sister-in-law and our nieces and nephews, although most of them still live in Ohio. And then there are our friends. They’re scattered all over the world, really, but a lot of them are here.” 

Miranda looked confused. “I saw a note saying he was an only child.”

“Finn is his stepbrother, but they’re close,” Blaine explained. “And I have one brother.”

“No sister-in-law for you?” She asked jokingly.

“I’ve had a few, but I don’t have one at the moment,” Blaine said, “Coop is not noted for his fidelity, and his wives have tended to object.”

“Well, I’m glad you two aren’t alone. I get the feeling Kurt won’t be telling the people important to you what’s going on, so you need to. I would suggest telling one person who knows most of the others, and letting that person take over the job of communicating with everyone else.” Miranda was truly relieved that they had support.

“Can I stay with him at night? He’s never been in the hospital, at least not overnight. He might be less scared if I can stay with him.” Blaine was practically begging.

“As long as he’s not too sick, we generally permit it, but we don’t recommend it. While none of this is ‘normal’ you do need to keep going, maintain your life at home. You need to be careful. If you aren’t, you’ll find that your world shrinks down to that room and this hallway. You need to try to go to work, shop, spend time at home and with friends outside of here, even if Kurt can’t. You’re going to be here a lot, I know, but try to keep a balance.” She urged. 

Blaine had trouble envisioning doing any of those things without Kurt. He knew he could. Realistically, he was usually by himself for most or all of the months of February and September, and often felt like he might as well be during January and August. But that was different. Kurt was out being the driven, spectacular person he was, soaking up the accolades that flowed his way. Now, Kurt was scared and ill and about to be in pain, and Blaine couldn’t picture leaving him alone that way.

She continued, “And, on that topic, if he didn’t bring much from home, you might want to bring him some things. Pictures are good, a favorite blanket or throw, especially if it’s soft – we have plenty, of course, but they aren’t necessarily the nicest blankets out there. That sort of thing. Unfortunately, this will be where he lives for several weeks, and it needs to be as pleasant and home-like as it can be for him. Believe it or not, it can make a big difference in his morale, which can affect how he handles treatment, which is important.” 

“Time to face the dragon,” Miranda proclaimed with a rueful smile as she reached past Blaine’s shoulder to knock on the door. “Are you ready, Kurt?”

“Does it matter?” Came the response.

Miranda chuckled a little as she pushed open the door. As she did so, a tiny girl with a flaming red ponytail approached, asking if it was okay to go in. “Sure, but I need to warn you, he’s a little grumpy.”

“That’s fine. I don’t blame him, but he should be aware that I’m pretty grumpy today too.” The red-head said. Entering, she introduced herself. “Hi, Mr. Hummel-Anderson. I’m Dr. Mary-Beth Cassidy, and I’m a surgeon. In a few minutes I’m going to be putting in your central line. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but before you start asking, I’m going to answer a few that I get asked every day, so we can get them out of the way. Yes, that’s really my name; yes, I’m Catholic; and no, I’m not a nun, nor have I ever had any leaning in that direction, just crazy parents who had to give me a name that sounds like one. Oh, and if you make any jokes about any of the aforementioned, you just might find out that I have a pretty good right hook the same way my brother did. And his name is James, before you ask. How unfair is that? I get Mary Elizabeth and he gets a normal person name.” By the time she finished speaking, Kurt was smiling at her tirade. Blaine loved her for that alone.

Kurt laughed, “Are you allowed to hit your patients?”

“Beauty of being a surgeon,” she answered, “If I break you, I can fix you.”

Remembering the reason she was there, Kurt, who was sitting uncomfortably on the bed, asked, “What’s involved in putting in the central line?”

“We’re going to take you to the OR as a precaution. It’s just safer to do it there.” That made Kurt nervous; it implied that there was a chance something could go really wrong. Dr. Cassidy continued, “Once you’re there, we’re going to numb you up. I’ll use a numbing cream, then give you a local. Then we’ll get your line inserted into a large vein in your chest, and then you’re on your way back here.”

The numbing cream was new, and Kurt wondered aloud why she used it. “I know the local is just a good hard pinch, but why should you feel it if you don’t have to?” She responded. Kurt liked that. She, of all the doctors so far, was the only one who had seemed to be concerned not only about his health, but his comfort as well. He didn’t know why, but that calmed him down; even though this required a trip to the OR, he felt safe with this tiny pixie of a woman.

“They keep calling it a ‘bee sting.’” Kurt told her.

“Nah. A bee sting’s really worse; I’ve been stung and it hurts like a bitch.” She said. “I know they’re supposed to be good for the environment and all, but I can’t stand ‘em. Besides, anything they can pollinate, I can kill. I have the ultimate black thumb.”

Kurt found himself laughing again. “What about pets? Can you have those?”

She thought for a minute, then answered. “All I’ve had are fish. Actually, considering my track record with fish, it’s probably good that I haven’t had anything else. Come to think of it, the safest place for any living thing in my vicinity might just be on my table.”

Miranda looked at Kurt’s hand and interrupted, “Kurt, your ring. There’s no jewelry in the OR. And honestly, it’s better if you don’t keep it here; it would be awful if anything happened to it.”

Kurt, having forgotten to remove it at home, started to tear up, and Blaine stepped over to the bed. He kissed Kurt tenderly as he slipped off the ring, wondering when it had gotten so loose, and murmured, “It’s okay, Baby, I’ll keep it for you until you’re ready to come home.” He started to slip it onto his own finger, only to have Kurt stop him.

“Don’t you dare stretch my ring, or get it stuck!” Kurt’s hands were bigger, his fingers longer, but they had always been slimmer than Blaine’s.

Blaine laughed, and told him, “I’ll get a chain to wear it on. I promise I won’t mangle your ring.”

An orderly came in with a gurney, telling them it was time for Kurt to go to the OR. Kurt moved to the gurney. He’d rather have walked, but felt exposed in the hospital gown, and on top of that, he was pretty sure he’d lose that particular policy fight. As the orderly released the brakes, Dr. Cassidy told him she’d take Kurt herself. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t argue. She pushed Kurt down a hallway, and into an elevator. As the doors slid open, he heard a gentle chime from the next elevator, and Dr. Cassidy got an impish grin on her face. “Wanna race?” She asked, and not waiting for an answer, she pushed the gurney as fast as she could down the hall.

Behind them, Kurt heard a voice exclaim, “Oh, no, you don’t! Not this time!” This was followed by running footsteps. 

Laughing, Dr. Cassidy pushed faster and called behind her, “Give up! You’ll never beat me.” Looking at Kurt, she said, “I may be small, but I’m fast.” Kurt found himself giggling as he was wheeled into the OR. As she parked the gurney next to the operating table, she told him, “These lovely ladies,” indicating the nurses already in the room, “Will get you set up while I get scrubbed. See you in a sec.” With that, she winked and disappeared through the doors.

When she returned, gloved and masked, Kurt thought to himself that he should be nervous, but he wasn’t. As long as she was involved, everything would be fine. She explained each step of the procedure to him as she performed it, regaling him with tales of gurney races and other hospital pranks engaged in by the younger staff members between explanations. By the time she was done, he was relaxed and chatting with her about various stunts and pranks pulled at fashion shows and during the course of Broadway productions. During the short time it took to insert the central line, they discovered in each other a match in intellect, wit, and bitchiness, and found that they enjoyed one another’s company. Kurt found himself wishing she was the doctor in charge of his care instead of Dr. Miles.

Again giving him personal service, Dr. Cassidy returned him to his room. By this time, they were on a first name basis. Preparing to leave, she told him Dr. Miles would be in shortly to do a lumbar puncture. Blaine wasn’t there. Nervously, Kurt looked to her and said, “Could . . . could you do it? Please?”

Taken aback, she said, “I have time. Let me check with Dr. Miles. I’m fine with it as long as she is.” After a short phone call, she stepped into the hallway to instruct a nurse to get the supplies, and then came back in, washing her hands thoroughly and donning gloves in preparation. “Ok, Kurt, roll on your side, facing the door, and bring your knees up to your chest. I’m going to wash your back now. It’s going to be really cold. Sorry.” Kurt felt his gown being untied and moved aside. As the fluid hit his lower back, Kurt gasped and instantly he was covered in goose bumps. “I don’t have the cream on this tray, so you’ll feel a pinch when I numb you up.” Kurt bit his lip, feeling the needle pierce his back. Mary Beth waited several minutes, then tested to make sure he was numb. Upon finding that he was, she said, “Okay, I need you to be really still. I’m about to put the needle into your spine. If you need to, you can hold your breath; just don’t move.” Kurt felt pressure. After a minute, she told him, “I’m taking the needle out now. All done. Let me close your gown. Now roll onto your back. Okay, Kurt, you need to stay like this, flat on your back, for four hours. You do not get up or change position, not for anything. That includes using the bathroom. If you need to use the bathroom, call a nurse.” She placed the call button under his hand. As she was giving instructions, the nurse assisting her left.

“Mary Beth?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you feel okay?”

The local in his chest was wearing off, allowing him to feel the protruding end of the central line, and the fact that it had several lines branching off of it.

“Yeah. I just kind of feel like I have some sort of alien octopus escaping from my chest.”

She smiled. “Yeah, but he’s a cute little octopus. You may end up with a headache or a backache from the LP. If you do, call a nurse and we’ll see what we can do. I’ll be back later to check on you.” With that, she left, and Kurt was truly alone for the first time.

* * *

After Mary Beth had taken Kurt to the OR, Blaine left to make some calls. The first, and hardest, was to Finn. The first time he called, Finn didn’t answer. He hung up and called back immediately. He didn’t want to leave this news in a message, nor did he want to play phone tag while trying to notify other people. Besides, he felt strongly that Kurt’s family should be the first to know, and other than he and the kids, that meant Finn and Carole, and he didn’t feel up to breaking the news to Carole. Finally, Finn answered. “Dude, what’s up? I have a class. I had to step out, and God only knows what they’re doing in there.”

Blaine’s voice broke as he said, “Finn, it’s Kurt.”

Finn’s annoyance disappeared as he realized something was seriously wrong. “Is . . . is he okay?”

“No,” Blaine answered as his tears started to flow, “he has leukemia, and I guess it’s pretty bad. He didn’t want anyone to know until it was confirmed, but they told us this morning. We told the kids over lunch. He’s already in the hospital, and they’re doing all sorts of tests and procedures, and they say he’s going to be there for a long time.”

“Oh, wow. Um, what do you need me to do?” Finn wasn’t sure how to handle this, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. This was his little brother. Okay, technically Kurt was only a few months younger, and was his stepbrother, and hadn’t even become his brother until they were juniors in high school, but since that time, he’d always thought of Kurt as his little brother, and felt a duty to take care of him. The problem was, he had no idea how to take care of Kurt in this situation.

“I don’t really know. Call him, talk to him, listen to him. If you can make it up here to visit, that would be good, but if you can’t, I understand. Oh, and can you tell Carole? I have to tell so many people, and um, it’s so hard, and I can’t let Kurt see me cry, I have to keep it together for him, and for the kids, but apparently I can’t talk to anyone else without breaking down.” Blaine was trying to think of what Finn could do.

Finn responded, “Sure, Blaine. Do you want me to call Mr. Schue or anyone else from the old glee club? I’ll tell Quinn, of course, and I’d be happy, well, not happy, but you know what I mean, I’ll call anyone else from the old club and let them know. Well, except Rachel. I can’t talk to her, you know that, so if you want her to know, you’ll have to tell her.”

Relief flooded Blaine’s body. “Thank you so much. If you would do that for me, it would be great. That cuts the list of people I have to call about in half. I’ll tell Rachel and Adam, and our other friends here who aren’t from the old club, and the Warblers, and the people at Kurt’s office.” He knew he was taking a chance that Santana would kill him for not calling himself, but hopefully she would understand.

Finn said, “Not a problem. I’ll talk to Quinn about our schedule and see when we can come, and we’ll bring Mom.” He felt better with a job to do.

“Thank you so much. Carole might be a real help. She can interpret all the medical stuff. The doctors and nurses are really great about trying to put things in layman’s terms, but sometimes I don’t get all of it, or just want someone I know and trust to be able to translate.” Blaine was grateful, and the thought of Carole being there was reassuring. Although she was retired and didn’t travel much, she made it a point to stay current on medical developments, a habit she had established while still active in nursing.

The next call was to Rachel, just to get it out of the way. It was not a good call; as usual, she made it about her, going on and on about losing her best friend. Blaine wanted to scream. First, the doctors hadn’t said Kurt was going to die. It was serious, but they were talking about how to get him through this; they had never said he was terminal. It wasn’t something Blaine even wanted to contemplate, even though the thoughts kept creeping into his mind, as much as he tried to push them away. Second, had she been there, he thought he would have shaken her, yelling ‘Your best friend? He’s my husband, for God’s Sake! I may lose my husband!’ And he just couldn’t think about that now. He got off the phone as soon as he could.

After that he called Adam, who answered after the first ring. “Now are you going to tell me what’s going on? I had Evan grill Daniel and all he got was a lecture on confidentiality, which then led to a dissertation from Evan on the topic. I just wanted to know what was going on, not be told all the reasons I couldn’t be told.”

Without preamble, Blaine told him, “Kurt has leukemia. It’s bad. They put him in the hospital today, and he’s going to be there for a long time.”

For a minute, there was stunned silence. Then Adam said, “Jesus. How bad? I mean, he’s not going to . . . .” His voice trailed off.

Starting to cry again, Blaine said, “I don’t know. I hope not.”

“What do you need me to do?” Adam asked.

Laughing through his tears, Blaine answered, “The show must go on. I have investors who have put money into my show, and it needs to get produced, but this is going to take a lot of my time and attention. I’ll be there as much as I can, but if you could take over and cover for me as much as possible when I’m not there, it would help. Just take the meetings, make the decisions, and tell me when you talk to me. And you just got promoted from assistant choreographer and assistant director to the real deal, at least when I’m not around. If we have a different interpretation of something, yours will probably carry the day, because you’ll be there day in and day out. You’ll do at least as well as I would given my current state of mind. Other than that, just visit, call, let Kurt know he’s not alone. He doesn’t want to tell anyone, but people have to know, and the doctors say he needs a lot of support, so he’s being overruled. And if he says not to come, ignore him.”

A few minutes later, they finished the call, Blaine preparing to make more calls, Adam’s head reeling. He was having trouble comprehending that one of his best friends, the man he had once loved, and with whom he had once imagined a life, was going through all of this. 

The next call was to Ben. “Blaine, Sweetie, are you ready to tell me what the mystery was about last week?”

Sighing, Blaine repeated what had become a most unwanted mantra for him. “Yeah. Kurt has leukemia. The doctors confirmed it this morning.”

The flamboyance dropped away. Although he loved projecting his over the top image, he was truly a highly organized, successful business man, and more than anything, Ben was a good friend, and took care of those he was close to. “What do you need?”

Blaine felt himself becoming overwhelmed. “I don’t even know anymore. There are so many people I still have to tell, I have to take care of Kurt, and he’s so scared by the situation, the hospital, oh, yeah, he’s already in the hospital. I just don’t . . . .”

Ben interrupted. “Stop. If they’ve ever met you or Kurt and set foot on Broadway, I’ll locate and tell them. Tell me what you want people to know, and I’ll take charge of disseminating information. The doctors are taking care of Kurt. Listen to me. You have to take care of you, so you can take care of him when he comes home.”

“Thank you,” Blaine whispered. They talked for a few minutes about who Ben should tell, and how, then Blaine hung up to continue his calls.

The next call was to Wes, then to David. David, ever the official secretary, offered to tell the other Warblers who had been in the group with either Kurt or Blaine. Blaine gratefully took him up on his offer.

As he hung up, his phone rang. Santana. Before he had a chance to say a word, he heard “Damn it, Hobbit, why didn’t you call me? I had to hear from Grown-Up Frankenteen?”

“I’m sorry, there are just so many people to tell, and I’m so overwhelmed, and I’m sorry and . . ..” Blaine apologized.

Softening, Santana said, “It’s okay. Just let me know what I can do.”

“I will. I just don’t know right now,” Blaine promised.

After that call came one from Mr. Schuester. He kept track of the glee club alumni, running a blog and website with news, and offered to be the contact point for information about Kurt. Blaine accepted. Ben was closest, and had contact with the widest circle, so Blaine called and asked him to keep Mr. Schue and David up to date, so they could keep everyone in their respective circles apprised of the situation. Ben agreed, and Blaine gave him their contact information. 

Next, he called Jenna, told her what was going on, asked her to tell everyone at the office, and let her know she would have to bring work to Kurt when he felt up to doing it. Finally finishing his calls, and feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, he headed back up to Kurt’s room.

* * *

After Blaine hung up, Ben immediately called Adam. “Have you heard?”

Adam didn’t even need to ask what Ben was talking about. “Yes. What do we do?” He knew Ben would have a plan. Ben was organized and efficient, and always knew what needed to be done.

“First, you know Blaine won’t leave Kurt alone any more than he absolutely has to, but living in the hospital won’t be good for him, mentally or physically,” Ben said.

“Yeah. I know. He’s already basically asked me to take over the new show.”

“I’m not surprised. You will have to do a lot, but don’t let him check out completely. He needs to stay involved in something outside of the hospital. We are going to have to organize a schedule of visitors, in part so that Kurt isn’t overwhelmed, but also so that Blaine feels like there’s someone there with him so that he’ll leave. We also have to make sure Blaine is eating and taking care of himself. He’s so focused on Kurt that he’s going to neglect his own health. We have to set up a schedule for taking meals to him, and maybe to Kurt as well, depending on what he can eat and whether he’s allowed to have food from outside. It’ll be just like when Ellie was born, only without the childcare.” Ben was ticking off the things to do and to organize.

“Thank God for that!” Adam said emphatically. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Kurt and Blaine’s children; he did, especially now that they were adults. It was just that some people weren’t kid people; they did not want or need children, and really shouldn’t have them. It had nothing to do with being gay or straight: he and Evan weren’t child people, but neither was Rachel, who was decidedly straight. Blaine and Kurt, on the other hand, were excellent parents and had always wanted children. He had pitched in when Ellie was born, taking the boys at times, because you do that for friends, but some days, he wasn’t sure he had recovered from the experience, even after all these years. The thought of children running around his apartment, touching things with sticky fingers, still gave him chills.

“I’m setting up a website tonight to keep everyone up to date; I’ll put the schedules up there and monitor it to make sure they stay full. That’s going to take a while. Blaine sounded like he was on the verge of collapse. You need to take tonight and bring him some food, and you have to make sure he actually eats. I know he won’t go home tonight, but try to get him to anyway. I’ll take tomorrow. I suspect that after that we’ll have plenty of people signed up, but we need to just keep on top of it.” Ben gave Adam his marching orders, then hung up to start work.

* * *

By the time Blaine reached Kurt’s room, he had been back for a while. On his way in, Miranda warned him that Kurt could not sit up at all or move much, and told him that he had been given medication to deal with a severe headache that had developed as a result of the lumbar puncture. Blaine entered the room to find Kurt lying in bed, IV tubing attached to one of several lines snaking off of one protruding from his chest. Walking over, he brushed his hand against Kurt’s cheek, saying “Hey, how are you doing?”

“My head really hurts, and my back hurts. They gave me something, but I don’t think it’s helping. It’s just making me groggy. I want to go home now.”

‘Don’t cry. Don’t cry.’ Blaine chanted to himself. Kissing Kurt’s forehead, he said gently, “I know, Baby. But you can’t go home right now. I wish you could, but you have to stay here for now.”

“Want to go home,” Kurt repeated blearily. Blaine sighed and didn’t answer. He settled for pulling a chair close and sitting next to the bed, Kurt’s hand in his. After a while, Kurt dozed off, and Blaine laid his head down on the bed next to Kurt and fell asleep. This was how Adam found them when he came two hours later, bringing a spinach salad with chicken for Blaine.

“Mmm. Thanks, Adam, but I’m really not hungry.” Blaine tried to waive the salad away.

“What did you eat today?” Adam interrogated.

“Um, I ordered an omelet for lunch.” Blaine answered.

“And did you eat it?” Blaine was silent. “Right. You haven’t eaten today. You’re going to eat, and do it now, and I’m going to make sure you do. Otherwise, Ben is going to kill me, and I really don’t want to die.”

When they came to get Kurt for his PET scan, Blaine was still absently picking at his salad. Kurt had woken up, and was now allowed to move, but any movement made his headache worse. The orderly told Blaine to wait in the room, then whisked Kurt away.

* * *

Kurt was taken to a room that he vaguely thought looked like a spaceship. A technician started a new IV, telling him they didn’t want to run the contrast through his central line. Kurt’s head hurt too much to think or talk, so he just listened, only half comprehending what he was told. He was moved to what seemed like a kind of tray, which slid into a big machine. Kurt wasn’t sure how long the test took, but he lay still as he was told and it didn’t seem to last long. He was just glad this test didn’t hurt. He had had enough of things that hurt.

* * *

A couple of hours after Kurt returned to the room, Blaine was surprised to see Dr. Miles enter the room. She looked as tired as he felt; it had been a long day for everyone. Kurt had finally fallen asleep. She checked on him briefly, then turned to Blaine. “Well, I finally have some good news for you. The lumbar puncture didn’t show any evidence of leukemia or anything else abnormal in his spinal fluid, and the PET scan didn’t turn anything up either, not even in those swollen lymph nodes. We’ll keep an eye on them, and repeat the tests periodically, but right now I don’t see anything that concerns me there, so it looks like the leukemia hasn’t spread beyond his bone marrow.” Blaine sighed in relief as Dr. Miles continued, “His fever is up a little, and we already know his immune system is weak, and it’s just going to get worse with the chemo, so I’m going to start him on antibiotics tonight. I’m also ordering an anti-nausea drug to be started tonight. Our best chance of controlling chemo-related nausea and vomiting is to prevent them; it’s a lot harder to control them once they start. His chemo will start tomorrow morning. It’s a pretty intense course; the drugs are strong, and at this point my plan is for him to have it for seven days. That could change, depending on how he tolerates them, but I feel like this is our best option right now.”

Blaine thanked her for the information, then she asked, “Are you going home tonight?”

Blaine shook his head, walking over to the bed and brushing hair away from Kurt’s forehead. “No. He’s so scared, even though he hasn’t said anything. I just can’t leave him like this. Not tonight.”

“I understand,” she said, a look of compassion on her face. “I’ll ask the nurse to bring you a blanket and a pillow. The couch actually converts to a bed, sort of. It’s not very comfortable. Sorry about that. But Blaine, eventually, you will have to leave him, at least for a little while, and you can’t spend every night here. He’s going to be here a long time.”

“I know,” he said, “Just not yet. I can’t leave him alone yet.”

Dr. Miles bid him goodnight, then left. A nurse, a different one this time, brought in a blanket and pillow for him, then came back a few minutes later to start the new medications, which she attached to various lines branching off of Kurt’s central line. After she left, Blaine figured out the couch/bed conversion and settled in with the flat hospital pillow and scratchy blanket for the first of many nights in the hospital.

* * *

The next morning, a nurse came in and woke Kurt early, which was never pleasant. She then helped him bathe, a more complicated process with a central line and multiple IV lines feeding into it. Afterwards, she helped him change into his pajamas, which made him feel somewhat more comfortable and less exposed. A few minutes later she returned and started his chemotherapy drugs. 

Blaine had awoken when the nurse came in, and tried to keep Kurt from focusing on the things that were upsetting him: someone else touching him, and all the lines leading to his chest. His fever was still up, which meant he was uncomfortable to begin with, and he still had a headache. He kept insisting that the medication was making him worse, and wanted everything stopped. Explanations about what the meds were doing and side effects and reason just made him more hostile. He wanted to go home. “Do you want me to put in a movie?” was rewarded with a glare. “How about I have Jenna bring some work up? Or you could sketch. What about that?”

“No. I can’t work. I don’t feel good. I can work if I go home. I’ll feel better at home.” Kurt insisted petulantly. Sighing, Blaine gave up, and tried to focus on the work he had brought with him, since Kurt clearly was not going to be talking much unless he was arguing, nor was he going to do anything Blaine could do with him or help him with.

Later that morning, someone from the hospital’s nutrition services department brought Kurt breakfast. “I don’t want this,” he told the poor woman. “I didn’t ask for this, I don’t want it.”

“But, sir, it’s what you ordered from the menu,” she said, confused.

“No, I didn’t,” Kurt informed her.

Coming to her rescue, Blaine said, “Sweetheart, you weren’t in any shape to order last night, you wouldn’t even talk about it, and it had to go in, so I picked something for you. You can pick from now on. You don’t have any restrictions, so we can even bring food in for you if you want. Just tell me what you’re feeling like and I’ll get it for you.”

“I don’t want anything.” Kurt wasn’t giving in.

“Baby, you need to eat. You have to keep up your strength to fight this.” Blaine implored.

“I’ll eat at home.” Kurt stated. Blaine had a bad feeling that they would be having a lot of these conversations. After a lot of begging and cajoling, he finally got Kurt to eat a few bites. It would have to do for now.

Shortly after they took Kurt’s mostly untouched tray away, Ben came in. “Go away.” Kurt said, then continued pointedly, “You didn’t even knock.”

“Well, we’re cheery today, aren’t we?” Ben responded, not looking like he planned to go anywhere. “I’m a dancer. I’m used to group dressing rooms, and you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. And I’ve seen enough of you in the studio to know you don’t have anything to be shy about.” With that, he piled Blaine’s blanket on his pillow and sat on the couch, handing Blaine a takeout container and a cup of coffee.

“What’s this?” Blaine asked.

“Breakfast. Or dinner from last night, since Adam says you barely ate. You’re going to eat now, even if I have to feed you.” 

“Now that, I’d like to see.” Kurt announced.

Blaine laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Babe, but I’m too scared he might be serious to tempt him.” Blaine ate while Ben chatted with Kurt. 

Finally, as Kurt was showing obvious signs of fatigue, Ben said, “Kurt, would you mind terribly if I steal your husband so he can shower, shave, change, and otherwise do whatever he needs to do to become presentable again?” Kurt waived them both out. Ben took the opportunity presented by the walk down to the street to get updated on Kurt’s condition and what was being done, then put Blaine in a cab, telling him to take both a shower and a nap before returning.

* * *

At home, Blaine showered and cleaned up, threw a few days’ worth of clothes and a razor into a bag, in case he didn’t make it back home for a while, then searched the apartment for things that would help Kurt feel more at home. He carefully selected pictures of he and Kurt together that Kurt liked, as well as pictures of the kids, and a scrapbook of pictures of the two of them with friends. He grabbed Kurt’s favorite throw from the couch, and took the warm, fuzzy blanket that Kurt liked to curl up in when it was really cold or he was sick from the linen closet in their bathroom. Finally, he made himself another cup of coffee, put it in a travel mug and rinsed the pot, and left a note for Rosemary explaining the situation. Looking around the apartment that already seemed emptier without Kurt, he turned and walked out the door, heading once again to the hospital.

* * *

Arriving in Kurt’s room, Blaine found him asleep but shivering. He called the nurse, who explained that his fever was up, and he already had several extra blankets. Feeling helpless, he sat next to Kurt and sponged his forehead with cool water, wishing he could do more.

A short while later, he was startled when Kurt awoke suddenly, announcing, “I feel sick!” Blaine barely had time to grab a basin before Kurt was retching violently into it. Blaine called the nurse again, who told him that she would call Dr. Miles. Kurt was already on medication to prevent this reaction, but it was obviously not working. 

The nurse returned with a new medication, which she added to the growing collection on Kurt’s IV stand, hooking it into one of the many IV lines leading to his central line. “Hopefully this will get things under control,” she said, not looking very hopeful. “Nausea from chemo is easier to prevent than treat, so since the first drug alone didn’t work we may have to continue to do more; it’ll take trial and error to determine what works for him.”

After a while, the additional drug seemed to calm things down. Kurt still felt nauseous, but was no longer retching. Blaine would have thought that had more to do with having nothing left in his stomach had Kurt not spent nearly half an hour dry heaving before the drug started to work. However, when his lunch tray was brought, Kurt turned slightly green and begged the young woman who brought it in to take it away. She put it near the sink by the door, but left it in the room. Blaine was unable to convince Kurt to try to eat anything. Honestly, he didn’t put too much effort into it, as he really wasn’t certain that it was the best idea either. Eventually, someone came and removed the tray, but neither man really noticed. Kurt couldn’t stand the idea of eating or drinking anything, which worried Blaine. He spoke to the nurse, who told him that if Kurt was not eating within a day or two they would start intravenous nutrition, and also informed him that Kurt was getting IV fluids already. She did, however, tell him to try to get Kurt to suck on ice chips to moisten his mouth. He was trying this, with no success, wincing as he saw how dry Kurt’s lips had become already, and knowing how Kurt would hate that if he realized it, when the door opened.

“Daddy, suck on the ice chips. Now!” Came the imperious command from their daughter, in a tone that matched Kurt’s exactly. Turning to Blaine, she said, “Papa, the doctor is waiting outside to talk to you. After that, Patrick is taking you to dinner, then home. Ian will spend the night with Daddy. I’ll stay until he comes. Patrick will bring you back in the morning, then stay with Daddy so that you can go to work.”

Smiling for only the second time that day, Blaine said, “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” came the instant response. Kissing him on the cheek, she pointed to the door and reminded him, “The doctor is waiting for you.”

Leaving the room, Blaine looked up to find Dr. Miles standing just outside the door. “He’s had a really bad day,” he told her.

Sighing, she said, “It’s not unexpected. While you were gone, we added another antibiotic, and took blood to try to determine the exact nature of the infection. I was hoping that the original medication would control the nausea; I’ve had pretty good luck with that drug, but some patients do need more. Don’t worry – we’ll find something that works, but unfortunately each patient responds differently to different drugs or combinations of drugs, so it’ll be trial and error to find what works for him.”

Blaine said, “So you’re not worried?”

“Well,” she hedged, “We’re keeping a close eye on him. As long as he’s stable, he’ll stay here. Hopefully we won’t have to move him to intensive care, but you should be prepared for that possibility.” Blaine nodded. Continuing, she said, “Your daughter approached me about the possibility of a bone marrow transplant. She wants to be tested. I told her I couldn’t discuss it with her, but that I would talk to you.”

Blaine said, “Kurt doesn’t want her to go through the pain of the donation, but she’s adamant about being tested. She told us she would be tested regardless of what he wants, so if she’s a match he’d get her marrow whether he knew it was hers or not. I’d like to be tested as well, although I know that the chances of me being a match are pretty low. And our sons want to be tested, and I suspect other friends and family members will want to be tested too.”

“Good,” was the response, “he’s not ready for a transplant yet, but it would be better if we can find a donor and do the transplant as soon as we have a biopsy showing that he’s free of the cancer. It will decrease the chances of relapse. Here’s the information on getting tested; just give it to anyone who’s interested in being tested, and urge them to complete the testing procedure as soon as possible. Oh, and if they’re worried, point out that donation is usually done under anesthesia, so the donor really isn’t in any pain, and we can give the donor medication to deal with any post-donation discomfort.” With that, she handed him a slip of paper with the information on it.

Looking up, he saw Patrick approaching. He stepped back into the room, followed by Patrick. Patrick spoke to Kurt for a moment before Blaine bid him goodnight and told him that Ellie would stay with him until Ian arrived, then kissed him gently and told him he’d see him in the morning.

* * *

Blaine insisted he wasn’t hungry, but Patrick insisted that he eat. “Look, Papa, if you don’t eat, someone is going to have my head on a platter.”

“Who?”

“The list is long and numerous. Trust me on this. They’re in line. My orders are to take care of you for the night, which includes seeing that you eat. Do you want me to cook, get take-out, or do you want to go somewhere?” Patrick inquired.

“I don’t care,” Blaine told him.

“Is there food in the house?” Patrick questioned. Of the three kids, he was the one who seemed to have gotten Kurt’s passion and talent for cooking. Blaine often wondered how, without Kurt’s genetic material, Patrick was in so many ways like Kurt. However, he guessed it was that way with all the children. He saw Kurt in both Patrick and Ian, and himself in Ellie.

“Um . . . ,” Blaine was trying to remember.

“Right,” Patrick sighed. “We’ll order in, then I’ll take inventory and maybe go shopping.”

Arriving at the apartment, Patrick ordered a pizza and salads, then went into the kitchen to determine if there was any edible food. The answer was not much. Blaine had cooked some when the kids were growing up, and cooked for Kurt when it was his turn if they weren’t too busy, but still tended to live on college bachelor food, take-out, or eating out when left to his own devices, and Kurt had obviously not felt well enough to shop over the last week. He made a list, and after dinner told Blaine to go to bed while he shopped.

“Papa, where should I sleep? The guest room, Ellie’s room, or Ian’s?” Patrick asked. His old room had been turned into the gym, as he was the first child to successfully transition out of the house. As the youngest, Ellie had been last to leave, but as a musician trying to make his way, Ian had reclaimed his room on several occasions when low on funds.

“Oh, pick one. It really doesn’t matter,” Blaine told him.

“When was Ian last in residence?” Patrick wanted to know.

“A few months ago,” Blaine answered.

“Okay, I’ll take his room,” Patrick told his father as he stepped outside. He had just wanted to make sure that if there were any surprises (porn, stray condoms, someone’s panties, etc.), Rosemary had had time to locate and dispose of them, as well as change the sheets. Ian did like to live the life of the crazy rock and roll musician; Patrick was just glad that for Ian this had never included drugs.

Blaine entered the bedroom. It was too empty without Kurt. He felt the absence in a way that he never had when it was just a business trip. After preparing for bed, he lay down but was unable to sleep. Eventually he moved to Kurt’s side, breathing in his scent on the pillow, feeling the warmth of his extra blanket. He rubbed Kurt’s ring, hanging on a chain around his neck. It had been a long time since he’d really prayed, but he did so tonight, begging for Kurt to return to him.

* * *

Ian arrived at the hospital, guitar case in hand. As he started to open the door to his father’s room he was greeted by his sister. “Look, Rock God, you have a job to do tonight. You are going to be responsible and do it for once, is that understood?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“You are not to leave Daddy, period. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” he assured her.

Finally, she let him pass, and he entered, gently kissing his father on the forehead. Ellie entered and told Kurt she was going home, but that Ian would stay with him that night. She kissed him on the cheek, and promised to visit the next day. Ian tried to talk to him for a while, but Kurt was too tired, so eventually his son gave up and began to softly play and hum under his breath.

A quiet inquiry rose from the bed. “What is that? It’s pretty.”

“Nothing really. Just something I’ve been working on. It’s nowhere near ready, though. Maybe if I manage to finish it I’ll play it for you someday,” Ian answered. It was a lie. It was finished. He had written it the previous day in a couple of tear filled hours. It was a song of pain and anguish, fear and grief; it was a song about losing Kurt. And Ian knew that although it was probably the best thing he had ever written, he would never, ever sing it for him.

* * *

When Blaine arrived the next morning, he saw Miranda in the hallway. For the first time, she was wearing the hospital issued royal blue scrubs that were the hallmark of the cancer unit, instead of her usual colorful print ones. In most units where the patients often had long stays, the hospital allowed the staff some leeway on dress code, finding it increased patient morale to not look at the same drab single color of scrubs on every person attending them every day. “How’s he doing?” Blaine questioned.

“Well, he has a bit more energy than he has the last couple of days,” she informed him with a grimace. Blaine could tell from her face that something had happened, and motioned to Patrick to be quiet as he arrived with coffee for both of them. He somehow knew Kurt had behaved badly. Again.

“Oh?” He said cautiously.

“Note my clothes.” She said.

“I noticed. You aren’t dressed the way you normally are,” Blaine answered.

“He threw his breakfast tray at me. He has surprisingly good aim for someone in his condition.”

Blaine buried his face in his hands. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she told him, her expression softening. “He’s going through a lot. Mood swings and depression are pretty normal under the circumstances. We do have a psychiatrist assigned to the unit who works with a lot of our patients, and we have some group therapy sessions. I tried to talk to him about it, but he shut down. He says he wants no part of either. You might see if you can get him to take advantage of either of them, or maybe talk to a clergy member.”

Blaine laughed, “I can try, but I probably won’t have any luck on the therapy or psychiatrist. As for the clergy, that’s right out. Kurt’s a pretty devout atheist. Any idea what set him off?”

“Not really,” she answered him, “I know he was watching television, the news maybe? I’m not sure, but he was upset when I came in. I tried to talk to him about eating, and apparently he was not in a receptive mood.”

Sighing, Blaine turned to enter the room. Ian was white as a sheet, and dead silent. Kurt was sitting up in bed, anger rolling off him in waves. As Blaine came in, Kurt looked at him and said, “Did you know that I’m dying? Of AIDS, no less. Apparently, I’ve been hiding it for some time, and now my death is imminent.”

“What?!” Blaine exclaimed.

“Well, I’m an out of the closet gay man, missing an important business engagement due to a health crisis, so obviously I’m dying of AIDS, according to the news, the fashion channel, and every celebrity gossip show and rag out there. They even have celebrities commenting on how they’ve known for a while, how I confided in them months ago. Those people will never again get a KHA original. I don’t care if they have to walk down the red carpet naked.” Kurt was seething.

“We have to issue a press release, and let everyone know what’s really happening. I know you don’t want to, but it will at least slow the gossip,” Blaine told him, trying to be practical.

“Fine. Just make it stop.” 

“I don’t know if I can do that, but I’ll try,” Blaine said apologetically, pulling out his phone and contacting his press agent.

As Blaine spoke, he noticed Kurt was shivering again. Hanging up, he pulled the blanket and throw out of the bag he had packed the previous day. “The nurse suggested I bring these from home, along with pictures, so it will seem a little more like home, maybe be a little more comfortable,” Blaine explained as he tucked the blanket and throw around Kurt.

Kurt threw the blanket and throw away, crying, “I don’t want it to feel like home! This is not home!” 

Blaine sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue right now. His timing was probably not the best, since Kurt was already angry. He simply tucked the blanket and throw back into his bag, making a mental note to try again later, when and if Kurt was ever in a better mood. He didn’t try to put out the pictures.

Later, as he was leaving to go to work, with a press conference newly on his agenda, he ran into Mary Beth. “How’s he doing?” She inquired.

“It’s been a really rough few days, and he’s pretty down,” Blaine told her. “Our son, Patrick, is with him right now.”

“Hmm. I’ll drop by later and see if I can cheer him up.” She promised. “Right now I’ve got to get someone else for a short procedure. No rest for the wicked!”

* * *

Blaine stood at a podium before a microphone as flashes exploded around him and film crews jostled for position. Taking a deep breath, and willing himself to be strong and not break down, he read the statement he had prepared earlier. “Earlier this week, the love of my life, my husband, Kurt Hummel-Anderson, was diagnosed with acute leukemia. It is an aggressive form of the disease, and unfortunately, it was not discovered early. However, the doctors are still optimistic about Kurt’s prognosis, and I, along with our family and friends, are praying for him. The situation required his immediate hospitalization for treatment, which will last several weeks this first time, and require follow-ups over several months. This is why he is missing certain fashion events over the next few weeks. He will continue to work as his health permits, and will continue to be involved in his business. Eventually, Kurt will need a bone marrow transplant. The process of testing to see if you are a match for someone needing a transplant is painless, and if you are a match to someone in need, the harvesting is done under anesthesia, and the pain is minimal. I would ask that everyone consider becoming a donor, and be tested. The chances are that you won’t be a match for Kurt, but you might be, for him or for someone else. Who knows whose life you might save? I would also like to state that the reports that he is suffering from AIDS or an AIDS related illness are false. Kurt is HIV negative, as am I; he has been tested, as have I, and neither of us has ever had a positive result. We request that the so-called news outlets spreading rumors of AIDS please cease and desist, as the frustration over these false reports is stressing to him, and pulls his focus from where it should be, which is on beating the leukemia. Finally, we ask that you respect Kurt’s privacy, and well as that of our family and friends, during this extremely trying time.” He stepped away from the podium and was quickly ushered away by his publicist’s assistant, who kept him turned in such a way that the cameras would not capture the tears he could no longer hold back. He vaguely heard the publicist telling the crowd that no, Mr. Hummel-Anderson would not be taking any questions today.

* * *

Entering Kurt’s room, Mary Beth motioned to Patrick. “Scram,” she said, pointing at the door. The order, issued in the same sort of imperious tone as his sister’s, combined with her official looking hospital scrubs, resulted in his immediate departure, her rather unprofessional language never having registered. Looking at Kurt, she said, “Oh, good. They haven’t brought your lunch yet.”

Kurt felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He really hadn’t planned on eating lunch. While the nausea was better, he still had absolutely no appetite, and while he supposed the food looked pretty good for hospital fare, fine dining it wasn’t. On the other hand, he wondered what fresh Hell he was to be subjected to that required him to have not eaten. “Why?” He asked, dreading the answer.

Mary Beth launched herself at his couch. It was then that he noticed the cup of yogurt and spoon in her hand. “We’re going to play a game,” she announced.

“What game?” Kurt asked suspiciously, wondering what games had to do with lunch.

“Rate the Ass,” she informed him triumphantly.

“What?”

“It’s simple really. When they bring you your lunch, eventually they’ll turn and walk out. Then we both make our rating and compare them.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said incredulously.

“Come on. I practically live here, I don’t have a boyfriend, I have no social life outside of here, what I have here is nothing to write home about, and you know how in those TV shows everyone runs around the hospital having sex? None to be found here. As I told you I never had any leaning toward becoming a nun, but for all I’ve been getting you might as well get me a habit and call me Sister Mary Beth. Take pity on me and play.” She implored.

By this point Kurt was laughing so hard tears were slipping from the corners of his eyes. “Fine,” he acquiesced.

A couple of minutes later, a man in his mid-thirties entered with Kurt’s lunch tray. Kurt accepted it much more graciously than he had his previous meals, and the man turned to exit. As soon as he left, Mary Beth said, “Five and a half out of ten.”

“Four,” Kurt announced definitively.

“Really?” She asked.

“At best.” Kurt insisted.

“Scrubs aren’t the most flattering things,” she told him, “You might want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I know, and I did,” Kurt informed her.

“Wow, you’re harsh. But I guess it’s pretty easy for you, Mr. Nine-plus and married to Mr. Nine-and-a-half.”

“I’ll have you know Blaine’s ass is a perfect ten,” Kurt defended.

“I’ll take your word for it, since I doubt that either of you are willing to let me get a better look at it,” she laughed.

“It would just make you jealous,” he told her.

They continued their conversation while she ate and Kurt picked at his food. Noting that he consumed no more than two small bites, after she finished her yogurt she excused herself to return to work. Making a beeline for the nurses’ station, she called Dr. Miles, then made a note in Kurt’s chart. Later that afternoon, Miranda added another bag to Kurt’s growing collection on his IV pole: intravenous nutrition.

* * *

That evening, Finn arrived with Quinn and Carole. Carole spoke with Dr. Miles and the nurses, then came in and spoke with Blaine. “So far, everything is going about as well as we could hope, given how advanced the leukemia was when it was diagnosed, other than the nausea,” she told Blaine. “He hasn’t had any major infections, but he’s still early in the chemotherapy round. You should be prepared. As he progresses, his blood counts and immunity will fall, and he will be very, very susceptible to infection.”

“I know,” Blaine said. “The doctors have told us.” Carole reached out and squeezed his hand, looking at him sympathetically.

That night, she spent the night with Kurt, and Thursday evening, Finn spent the night with him. They convinced Blaine to sleep at home Thursday night, after he insisted Carole take the couch on Wednesday night and spent the night sleeping in a chair. Quinn stayed at the apartment both nights, along with Finn or Carole, whichever was not with Kurt. 

Friday afternoon, they wished Kurt and Blaine goodbye, and Blaine called the car service to take them to the airport. Finn had only been able to take two full days off from school, and his kids were preparing for regionals; given how important show choir had been for both Kurt and Blaine, they understood the need to get back and prepare. Finn had previously scheduled weekend rehearsals, and Kurt and Blaine both insisted that they not be cancelled. There wasn’t much Finn could do anyway. Quinn needed to get back to her businesses. Blaine would miss Carole, and vowed that he would have her conferenced in by phone when the medical discussions got complicated. Never had he wished so strongly that Kurt’s family lived in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same song, um, lost track of which verse: I'm sorry about medical errors, the medical stuff is based on internet research, I tried to be accurate, but I'm not sure how well I did. Thanks for sticking with this story (and me) this long, and please, please comment. Also, thank you so much to @25klainer85 for all the wonderful comments and support! And don't forget I'm still taking suggestions for Along the Road, so if you want to hear more in this 'verse, let me know. I won't promise to write it, but as long as it's consistent with the story, I'll try!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! Please comment and let me know what you think.

Chapter 27

By the end of the week, things had settled into an uneasy rhythm. One of the kids or a friend would come late each morning to spend time with Kurt, convincing Blaine to go into work for a few hours, confident that Kurt would not be alone. Blaine spent about two out of every three nights at the hospital, with one of Kurt’s many visitors volunteering to spend a night every so often so that he could go home, although he would rather have stayed with Kurt. Someone made sure he ate every day. If he spent the night at home, he got up early to go in and see Kurt before going to work. 

Whatever infection Kurt had had was finally beginning to get better, and his nausea was under control, so he didn’t feel quite as bad. However, he still had no appetite. The army of friends Ben had organized brought food to him as well as Blaine, everyone who knew him knowing that if he ate at all, it was not likely to be hospital food. His blood counts were dropping, but that was to be expected. No one who was ill was permitted to visit, as his immune system was failing; he was very tired, and was bruising and bleeding even more easily than before. However, none of this worried the doctors, as it was normal given the intense chemotherapy. So annoying as Kurt found his gums bleeding when he brushed his teeth, he did take a bit of comfort when the medical staff’s response was basically, “Yeah, sucks, doesn’t it?” He also railed against the pain pump, which permitted him to determine when he needed pain medication and have it delivered at the touch of a button, but was set so he could not overdose. Kurt hated the pain medication; he felt that if he was really in enough pain to resort to it, it didn’t do enough, and the rest of the time he hated the way it made him feel: fuzzy and muddled – he wanted to be able to think and communicate clearly, and the medication interfered with both. However, the staff insisted he needed it to deal with the pain caused by the leukemia, the infections, the tests, and the side effects of the chemotherapy; it would become standard with each of his hospital stays, no matter how much he hated it, sometimes being set to deliver medication automatically, since Kurt usually refused to use the on-demand feature. The high points of each day were Blaine’s return, and Mary Beth’s visits to continue their game, with whomever happened to come into the room as a subject. By Friday, Kurt felt well enough for boredom to become an issue, and he called Jenna and demanded she bring work. 

Saturday evening, Blaine and Adam were debating details of the new show while Kurt sketched, working on the spring/summer collection for next year. Kurt was having trouble focusing, and began to feel as though he couldn’t catch his breath. “Blaine?” He began, “Having trouble . . . .” Blaine looked up to see Kurt’s lips looking slightly blue, at the same time that an alarm began to scream. A nurse ran in, checking the monitor and turning off the alarm. He placed a mask over Kurt’s face. A doctor came in and began issuing orders for tests and medications. 

Once Kurt was breathing better, the doctor pulled Blaine aside. “His oxygen saturation was too low. We’ll have to wait for the results of the blood tests to know for certain, but I think that this is basically the result of your husband’s blood count dropping. He probably doesn’t have enough red cells to carry sufficient oxygen to his body, so if the tests confirm that, we’ll give him a transfusion of red cells. That should help. I’m also ordering him moved to intensive care until we get him truly stabilized.” That frightened Blaine. Intensive care was bad. The medical staff seemed to think it was routine, but in his mind it was a whole order of magnitude worse.

As he was being prepared for the move, which entailed a change back to the hated hospital gown, monitors and machines being switched to battery power and unplugged, and a small army of staff to move all the equipment, poles, and medication that went with him, Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine’s hand. “Blaine? I’m scared.”

Blinking away tears, Blaine answered, “I know, Baby. I am too.”

Kurt was moved to intensive care, where he was placed in a small glass enclosed room. As this area was reserved for the most critical patients, visiting hours were unrestricted, but those permitted to visit were much more limited. Blaine refused to leave Kurt’s side except when absolutely necessary, specifically, to attend to the call of nature, or when medical procedures required that he step out. 

Kurt’s condition rapidly deteriorated, his fever returning and spiking with a vengeance, and his breathing becoming more labored. He was placed on a respirator to assist his breathing and make sure he got enough oxygen, and he was sedated to help deal with the discomfort of the respirator. Tests showed that not only had his blood counts fallen to critical levels, he had developed pneumonia. Fortunately, the pneumonia was a type that responded well to certain antibiotics. A combination of new antibiotics, transfusions of red cells and platelets, and medication to encourage the production of healthy white cells stabilized his condition within a few days. By Monday evening, his sedation was stopped and the respirator was removed. Tuesday morning Kurt finished his round of chemotherapy, although most of his other medications remained. Blaine breathed a giant sigh of relief when the doctors told him Tuesday evening that if he remained stable overnight, Kurt would be transferred back to the main cancer ward.

Wednesday morning found Kurt being moved back to the main cancer floor. Although it was by no means guaranteed he would always get the same room, this time the room was available and so he was back in the same place he had started his hospital stay. Miranda was back on duty, and helped him to change back into his pajamas. Blaine helped get his things put in their place, discreetly placing the pictures he had packed the previous week. Shortly before lunch time, Blaine’s phone rang. Smiling, he answered, “Hi, Santana.”

“Hey, Hobbit, is your play producing itself now?”

“No, but Adam’s got things under control,” he told her.

“Are you sure?” She asked with a tone that suggested she knew something he didn’t. That worried him. “Look, I’m going to be there in a few. I would have come before but Brit’s had a cold and I didn’t want to come when I might be getting sick and make Kurt worse. Go to work. He can be alone for a couple of minutes.”

“Thank you,” he breathed. Turning to Kurt, he said, “Something may be up at work. Santana’s on her way. Do you mind if I go ahead and leave?”

“Mmm, go ahead,” Kurt muttered, not looking up from his computer screen. Ellie had seen to having it backed up and brought it to him the day before. He was checking news and fashion sites to see if Blaine’s press release had been effective; so far, it appeared that it had – most were now reporting his illness accurately as leukemia, and a few had issued apologies for the previous reports, pledging to verify before reporting in the future. Right. Shouldn’t they have been doing that all along? He thought. 

Blaine told him goodbye and left, running into Santana at the elevators. He pointed out Kurt’s room at the end of the hallway. As they looked down the hall, they both saw an almost child-sized figure with flaming hair dressed in scrubs enter Kurt’s room.

“Do I need to wait?” She asked.

“Nah. That’s just Mary Beth,” he told her. She raised her eyebrows. “She’s a surgeon. She put in Kurt’s central line and did his spinal tap when he first got here, and they’ve become friends. She visits almost every day. Apparently they play some kind of game.”

“What sort of game?”

“I’m not really sure,” he replied, “Whenever the subject comes up they just look at each other and giggle.”

Santana took off toward the room at a run.

“Where are you going?” Blaine called.

“This sounds like a game I need to get in on!” She called over her shoulder with a smile. 

Santana entered Kurt’s room, calling out, “Hey, Porcelain! You better be decent!” Approaching the bed with crossed arms, she smiled a devious smile, saying, “So, I hear there’s a game I should know about.” 

After being briefed on the rules, Santana was in. “Hell, yeah, I’m playing. I don’t know why I didn’t think this up years ago.” Kurt’s lunch was delivered while he was picking at the lunch Santana had brought for him, which he was much more likely to eat. Oblivious to the proceedings, the young man delivering the lunch turned and left.

After hearing Santana’s commentary, Mary Beth was astounded. “And I thought Kurt was hard!” She exclaimed.

Santana looked at her and smiled, offering, “I could rate others.”

“Down Santana,” Kurt told her, turning to Mary Beth. “She’s a lesbian. She just wants to look at your ass.” 

“Well, she’s going to get the chance, because I have to go back to work,” Mary Beth laughed, getting up to leave.

“Mmmm,” purred Santana as she exited.

“Forget it. She’s straight and you’re taken,” Kurt told her.

“Married, not dead. Oh, God, I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. I – I’m really not sure where this is going to lead. Don’t tell Blaine, but I’m not sure I’m getting through this. That being said, I love the fact that you talk to me just like you always have. You aren’t trying to tiptoe around making sure you don’t say the wrong thing. Right now I find that, abrasive as it may be at times, a lot less offensive than when people stop and edit everything they say before they say it so they don’t mention death or cancer or anything else that might upset me. Just talk to me. I’m still me. I won’t break if you say the wrong thing. Get mad, maybe. Cut you down to size, definitely. But at least give me the benefit of what you honestly think,” Kurt replied.

“Fine. Done. Right now I want to know when we get to keep playing the game. Hers is definitely a nine point five, by the way.”

“As soon as someone else comes in. And I’ll be sure to give her your rating next time she drops by.” Kurt said drily. 

Santana spent most of the afternoon with Kurt, gleefully handing out ratings that ranged from snarky to downright vicious. Late in the afternoon, a tall blonde man entered, introducing himself as Dr. Jason Fisch. “I’m a hematologist. I work with Dr. Miles. I’ll be following your blood counts pretty closely, and working with Dr. Miles on supporting your blood counts. Hopefully we won’t have a repeat of the weekend.” He then spent a few minutes discussing what they would do to deal with the falling blood counts. 

As he left, Santana let out a low whistle. “Okay. My gay-dar says straight. We need to look into whether or not he’s attached. If not, we need to get him together with Mary Beth. His score matches hers.” Chuckling, Kurt agreed to assist, dubbing it Operation Date. 

Shortly afterward, Santana excused herself to go to work. “I’ve got a new manager at one of the clubs. I can generally pick ‘em pretty well, but this one is taking a long time to get up to speed. I may just have to chalk this one up to being too preoccupied by her looks and admit defeat and fire her, but until I decide to do that or she gets her act together, I’ve got to babysit her, which is not doing anything good for my love life with Brit, since she’s on days,” Santana told Kurt, simultaneously explaining the problem while grousing that her career as a club owner constantly put her on an opposite schedule from Brittany, who was a dance instructor.

* * *

After leaving the hospital, Blaine rushed to the rehearsal space, intent on finding out exactly what was going on. He had been preoccupied the last several days with Kurt in intensive care, so as much as he hated to admit it, it was possible something big was up without him knowing about it. Seeking out Adam, he demanded to know what was going on.

He was greeted with a puzzled expression. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Blaine. If anything was wrong I would have let you know. You know that.”

“But, Santana said . . . .” Blaine trailed off, looking into Adam’s face, which was looking increasingly amused.

“And you believed her?” Adam inquired incredulously.

A light bulb suddenly went off in Blaine’s mind. “She was just trying to get me out of the hospital and focused on something else, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, I believe that was her intent.” Adam confirmed, smiling as Blaine started to laugh.

Blaine spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on developments, discussing a few minor matters with Adam, and watching the leads run lines.

* * *

Late that evening, Blaine made it back to the hospital, feeling only mildly guilty about the fact that Kurt was probably alone. Kurt had been engrossed with work and catching up on the news, at least as it pertained to him, during the time he was there, and had therefore barely noticed him. He had picked up take-out from Kurt’s favorite Greek restaurant on the way as a peace offering in case Kurt was annoyed, so he was laden down with a bag containing avgolemono, hummus, tzaziki, pita, Greek salad, and gyros with both rice pilaf for Kurt and Greek potatoes for himself. He was not prepared for the site that greeted him as he pushed his way into Kurt’s room.

Kurt was sitting up in bed, tears streaking his face. A song floated softly from the speakers on the iPod dock:

Will I lose my dignity?  
Will someone care?  
Will I wake tomorrow  
From this nightmare? 

Blaine was shocked; Kurt had been in much better spirits the last couple of days, and he had no idea what had happened to cause this sudden change of mood. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He inquired, rushing over and cupping Kurt’s chin, tilting his face to look up at him.

“This song was written about AIDS, but as it turns out it’s very apropos to cancer as well,” Kurt told him.

Blaine was confused. Was the song what was upsetting him? It didn’t seem likely, but Kurt didn’t seem inclined to explain further. Blaine pulled Kurt close and rocked him like a child. “What are you talking about, Baby?”

“Loss of dignity.”

“You’ll never lose your dignity. You are, without a doubt, the most dignified person I know. And if you’re worried about someone caring, you know I’ll always care, always love you so, so much, and the kids will, and the rest of our families, and our friends. We’ve had to take measures just to deal with everyone who’s concerned about you so that I’m not too snowed under talking to them to be with you. None of that will ever happen to you,” Blaine promised.

“But it already has,” Kurt insisted, “I’m losing my hair.”

“What?” Blaine asked.

“After Santana left, I realized that it was probably messy, because I’d spent a lot of time lying down this afternoon, so I went to fix it and when I ran the brush through it, it started falling out. I ran my hands through it and it just came out in clumps. I couldn’t even feel it.” Kurt’s tears, which had temporarily stopped when Blaine came in, started falling again.

Carefully, gently, Blaine ran his hands over Kurt’s hair, as though he were trying to quiet a skittish animal. “Kurt, Baby, I know you love your hair. I love it too. But we knew this would probably happen. I’m in love with you, not your hair. With or without your hair, you’re still you. You’re still the man I love, will love for the rest of my life. And your hair is not the same as your dignity; it’s just hair, it’ll grow back. And with it or without it, you’re still the most dignified person I know. And remember: hats. Thanks to you, this will turn into the year of the hat. And you love hats. Don’t deny it.”

The attempt at levity did nothing to pacify Kurt. “That’s not all. Someone in this God-forsaken place knows everything about me. Every bodily function is monitored, measured. They know more about how my body is functioning than you, my husband, ever have. They know more about it than I do. I don’t have even a shred of dignity left at this point. Nothing is private. Nothing!”

Suddenly, Blaine understood. The hair was both the tip of the iceberg and the last straw. To someone as intensely private as Kurt, just knowing how much someone else knew about him, when the information was not disclosed by choice, was pure torture. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. Just focus on the fact that this is all temporary. You’re going to beat this thing. And when you do, and you come home, no one has to know anything that you don’t want them to. And remember, you still have your dignity; I look at you and you are no less dignified than you ever have been. And a lot more dignified than you have been at times. Do I need to catalog the times when you’ve been less dignified? I can think of a number of times involving the children . . . .” Kurt’s sobs slowed as he shook his head. For several minutes they sat that way, Kurt safely wrapped in Blaine’s arms. “Kurt, my love, will you please try to eat a little bit for me?” Blaine asked. 

Kurt nodded, and Blaine set out the food. “It may not be really hot anymore. I can try to find a microwave and heat it up . . . .”

Kurt shook his head, “It’s fine.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Kurt stopped eating after a few bites, but allowed Blaine to feed him a bit more off and on as Blaine continued to eat. As they finished, Kurt spoke up in a hesitant voice, “Blaine?”

“Yeah, Baby?”

“Will you do me a favor?”

“Of course. Anything. What do you want?”

“Will you . . . will you shave my head?” He asked. As Blaine gaped at him, he said in a rush, “I just don’t want it to look all patchy or thin. I . . . I think I’d rather just have it all gone than look like that. And I don’t think I can do it myself, because I’ve never done something like this before and I can’t see what I’m doing. Please?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring someone in? I’m sure your hairdresser would come in if I explained . . . “

“No,” Kurt said. “I don’t want anyone else to see. I’m not sure, emotionally, how I’m going to react. I just want you. No one else. Please?”

“Of course, Baby. I’ve never done anything like this either. I don’t know how it will turn out. Let me talk to Ben. He can tell me what to do. He’s been shaving his head for years.”

“Thank you,” Kurt murmured. 

Blaine cleared away the remains of their dinner, then lay down in the bed with Kurt. He drew Kurt into his arms, careful not to hurt him or dislodge the many lines and tubes that tethered Kurt. He held Kurt until he felt his breathing even out with sleep, seemingly a more peaceful sleep than he had had since he had entered the hospital. Then Blaine gave way to his own tears, crying himself to sleep.

* * *

As promised, the next day, Blaine called Ben, then went out and purchased clippers. He brought in several large towels, instructing Kurt to sit on one of them, facing away from him. The others he wrapped around Kurt’s shoulders. Turning on the clippers, he shaved Kurt’s head, glad Kurt couldn’t see his silent tears. Kurt’s own shoulders shook, his sobs soft but audible. After he was done, Blaine shook all the hair onto the towel Kurt was sitting on, instructing him to stand so he could move the towel. Taking it to the corner of the room, he shook the last of Kurt’s beautiful chestnut hair into the waste basket. Returning to the bed, he pulled Kurt into an embrace. Kurt curled against him, laying his head against Blaine’s chest.

“Blaine?”

Sniffing, Blaine replied, “Mmmm?”

“This is real, isn’t it? It’s not a nightmare, and I’m not going to wake up to find it was just a dream, am I?”

“Yeah, Baby. It’s real. I’m so sorry. I wish it was just a dream, but it’s not. You don’t get to wake up tomorrow and find out that everything is like it was. This is our reality now.”

“Blaine? I’m cold. Can I have my blanket now? The one from home?”

“Yeah, Baby.”

* * *

The next three weeks were hard. Not only did the chemo affect the cancer cells, it affected other tissues as well. In addition to losing his hair, the chemo caused sores in his mouth and disruptions throughout Kurt’s digestive tract. For close to two weeks, he was unable to tolerate food of any kind, relying solely on IV nutrition and hydration. His blood counts continued to fall, and he required repeated transfusions of platelets and red blood cells. His falling white cell counts made him vulnerable to infection, and he contracted several infections despite being on antibiotics constantly. He was transferred to the ICU and back twice. They were told that Kurt’s blood counts would begin to recover two to three weeks after the end of chemotherapy. Blaine was counting the days.

* * *

After the psychological trauma of losing his hair, Kurt finally seemed to accept what was happening. He was somewhat more cooperative, although being Kurt, he was never truly comfortable with the lack of privacy. On good days, when he felt a little better, he worked, joked with the staff, and looked forward to getting better. He also relentlessly worked on his project with Santana: getting Mary Beth and Dr. Fisch together. On bad days, he grew surly, depressed, uncooperative, and uncommunicative; on his really dark days, he talked of his own death as though it was imminent. 

Friends continued to make sure Blaine left on occasion, ate, bathed and attended to other basic needs. They also made certain he worked some, just to draw his focus away for a few hours. They kept Kurt company. Amazingly, a number of their friends, including many from the Warblers and New Directions whom they saw only once or twice a year, and spoke to maybe three or four times a year on the phone, found themselves in New York on business or on oddly timed vacations. Of course, since they were in New York, they had to go by to see Kurt and Blaine. Magically, someone was always there for them, yet never so many that they were overwhelmed. Blaine thought, on more than one occasion, that someone was pulling the strings for this particular puppet show, but never learned the identity of the benevolent puppeteer.

* * *

Finally, a little over four weeks after entering the hospital, Kurt’s blood counts began to show signs of improvement. However, there were a disturbing number of immature and abnormal cells as well, and they were also increasing. Another bone marrow biopsy was performed, and it confirmed that despite the punishing regimen of chemotherapy he had endured, Kurt was not in remission. He spent another two weeks in the hospital waiting for his blood counts to recover enough to go home, so that he could rest at home for a couple of weeks and try to gain the strength necessary to undergo a second round of induction chemo.

Finally, it was time to go home. It felt odd to both Kurt and Blaine to be packing up Kurt’s things to go home. As much as they hated to admit it, the hospital had become his home away from home. Kurt was excited and anxious to go home, even with the restrictions he was under: his immune system was still compromised, so while he could go home, he had to stay there; he couldn’t go out to work, shop, eat, or anything else. He was really glad they had a balcony. That would be his outside for now. Blaine, on the other hand, was worried Kurt would become ill. As much as he wanted Kurt home, he was terrified about his ability to care for Kurt adequately, and about whether or not he could get him to the hospital in time if a crisis arose. But he buried his fear and helped Kurt get ready.

Kurt lost his battle to have his central line removed, so he and Blaine both learned to clean it and care for it. Blaine learned how to help Kurt bathe so that the line would not become dislodged or infected. The line was left in place so it would not have to be reinserted when Kurt began his next round of chemo, and would be there in the event of a sudden hospitalization which necessitated IV medication. Although some cancer patients went home with IV medication, Kurt had proven his ability to eat, drink, and swallow the pills necessary for him to go home with solely oral medication. He decided to take this small victory and celebrate. If this ordeal had taught him anything, it was that any victory was a victory, no matter how miniscule, and worth celebrating. 

The morning was spent going over discharge orders and saying goodbye to the various staff members Kurt and Blaine had come to know well. When an orderly appeared with a wheelchair, Kurt didn’t argue. He was still too weak and became too winded too easily to fool himself into thinking he could make it downstairs by himself. As he settled into the wheelchair for the ride down to the car, Blaine said, “Oh, wait, I nearly forgot. I got you a coming-home present.” He placed a large box in Kurt’s lap, laughing at Kurt’s expression – his eyebrows would have been up to his hairline if both hadn’t completely fallen out. “Open it. It’s still cold out. This might help.” Although it was nearly mid-March, it had been a brutal winter, and the cold had yet to relinquish its grip on the city, and under the best of circumstances Kurt did not do well in the cold; both the leukemia and the chemo had made him even less tolerant of it. Kurt removed the ribbon and opened the box. Inside were four items, all knitted from a soft, slightly fuzzy grey-brown yarn: a close fitting hat, similar to those skiers wear; a cardigan; a pullover sweater, and a blanket, bigger than the average afghan, but smaller than a full size blanket. “They’re qiviut. It’s not dyed, and it’s really soft, so it shouldn’t irritate your skin. It’s also a lot warmer than wool – about six or eight times as warm for the weight.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said, reaching up to squeeze Blaine’s hand. Blaine helped him put on the pullover. Then Kurt put on the hat, and they were ready to go. The orderly pushed the wheelchair, taking him downstairs to finally go home.

* * *

Although their friends and family wanted to be there when they arrived home, Blaine had asked that they be left alone that day. Kurt tired so easily, and Blaine didn’t want him to feel that he had to play the part of host. Blaine was also afraid of having too many people close to Kurt, people who might make him sick. Therefore, when Carolyn dropped them off at the door to their building, they made their way up to what they expected to be an empty apartment. Zane, the daytime doorman, told Blaine he would have Kurt’s things sent up in a few minutes, as it was clear that Kurt, having absolutely refused to take a wheelchair home, needed Blaine’s help to make it upstairs. Blaine supported Kurt with one arm while unlocking the door with the other hand. As the door swung open, they were greeted by the sight and scent of Kurt’s favorite flowers decorating every flat surface. Defying Gravity, Kurt’s all-time favorite song, floated from the apartment’s sound system. Kurt turned to Blaine with wide eyes.

“I had no idea. I’m as surprised as you are,” Blaine told him. He got Kurt settled on the couch and told him he was going to get him some water. Entering the kitchen, Blaine felt a sense of dread. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shopped for groceries. God only knew what sort of shape what little food was left was in. He didn’t want to leave Kurt, but he would have to; Kurt had to eat, and what he could tolerate was pretty specific right now. As he opened the refrigerator he prayed that there would at least be a bottle of water – Kurt preferred it to tap water. The sight that met his eyes caused him to break out in a grin: the refrigerator was fully stocked, all the food fresh, and clearly tailored to both his limited cooking skills and Kurt’s self-imposed dietary restrictions. The pantry was in a similar condition. Grabbing a bottle of water for Kurt, he returned to the living room. “In case you were unaware, our friends are wonderful. And crazy. But mostly wonderful.”

After permitting Kurt to soak in the fact that he was home for a brief time, Blaine heated some soup for him (their own personal little elves having apparently visited one of Kurt’s favorite restaurants and gotten take-out) and then insisted that he take a nap. 

* * *

After getting him settled in bed, Blaine called downstairs to thank Zane for helping with the bags and with the deliveries that friends had clearly made. With a smile Blaine could hear over the phone, Zane denied any knowledge of anyone going to the apartment, as did both the other doormen later. So in a building in which every entry whether resident, guest, worker or delivery person was logged, and security cameras were everywhere in the public areas, somehow food and flowers magically appeared without any trace of where they came from. He made a mental note to make sure the doormen’s Christmas presents were even more generous than usual this year.

Over the next two weeks, meals, groceries and flowers arrived with regularity via an assortment of family and friends. As in the hospital, there were never enough people to make them feel overwhelmed, but enough that Blaine felt he could leave for a few hours each day. And no one ever admitted that there was any orchestration or anyone behind the rather obvious system. 

Kurt’s appetite remained nonexistent, but Blaine was able to keep him eating just enough to maintain his current weight, low as it was, and drinking enough to avoid dehydration. The fact that he had appointments every few days with Dr. Miles to check his progress and make sure he didn’t need to return to the hospital or restart IV nutrition and hydration definitely helped. He knew if he didn’t eat or drink enough, he would be unable to hide it, and it would result in consequences he was decidedly unwilling to live with. Blaine was uncertain that Kurt was really getting any stronger, but he was resting better at home, in much better spirits, and was at least not getting any worse.

The day before he was due to return to the hospital he had another appointment with Dr. Miles, at which he was due to have yet another bone marrow biopsy. For the first time since he came home, he balked. “Why do I have to do this? They can wait until the hospital to do the biopsy. Why should I be sore my last night at home? Let’s just skip it.”

Blaine sighed. At least Kurt was acknowledging the need to go to the hospital, so he didn’t have to fight that battle. And he couldn’t argue with Kurt about how the biopsy would feel; he’d never had one, and Kurt had been through several by this time. “So that there’s one less test that they have to do tomorrow. And she said there was something she wanted to talk about; I’m not sure what.”

“Can’t she tell us over the phone? Other people deal with business over the phone, why can’t doctors?” 

“Because it’s usually better to deliver the kind of news doctors have to give in person. Come on.” Blaine was patiently getting Kurt ready while he debated the matter with him, slowly but surely moving him out the door.

Once they arrived at Dr. Miles’ office, Dr. Miles had Blaine wait in her private office while she performed the biopsy. As usual, it was done fairly quickly. Kurt was gone less than half an hour from the time the nurse ushered him into the procedure room until he joined Blaine in Dr. Miles’ office, moving stiffly and limping a little. 

Dr. Miles entered and sat down across the desk from them. “I have some bad news,” she began. Blaine felt his heart sink. “The lab has finished testing your sample and your children’s samples, as well as a number of other people, both friends and family I think, who volunteered to donate marrow to Kurt. Some of the results came from other labs across the country. Unfortunately, Kurt, your tissue type is pretty rare, and no one who directly volunteered to donate to you is a match. We have placed you on the transplant list, and entered your data into the national database, but there’s no one in the database who is a match right now. I don’t want you to give up hope. New people are entered into the database all the time; we could find a match for you any day. And we have to get a handle on the leukemia before we can even consider a transplant anyway.” She went on to discuss Kurt’s upcoming round of chemotherapy, which would be much the same as the previous one. He would be started on stronger anti-nausea drugs, and they would be started earlier; she gave him a prescription to fill that day so that he could start an oral version of them that night. The same went for the antibiotics, although since he was not ill at the moment he was starting in a better place than the last round from that perspective.

Blaine took notes that seemed to go from his ears directly to his hands, without penetrating to his brain, which was fully preoccupied with the news that there was no tissue match for Kurt. Everything he had read, everything Dr. Miles and the other medical personnel had told him, not to mention the discussions he had had with Carole, told him Kurt’s best chance for survival was a bone marrow transplant. And now she was saying he wouldn’t get one. There was no match. Blaine felt like she had just told him Kurt was going to die, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

Kurt couldn’t go to the place Blaine was. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to go on, wouldn’t be able to withstand the upcoming treatment. He was not generally the most positive of people, but right now he had to be. So he focused on the fact that he felt less sick going into treatment than last time, and he would have more drugs earlier to help deal with the side effects so they wouldn’t be as bad. He would get a transplant if it turned out that he really needed one; it would happen eventually, when someone who was a match entered the database. He just had to make it that long, and he was going to do that. He had plans. He was going to see Mary Beth get married, which could take some time, since he had yet to successfully engineer a date with Dr. Fisch or anyone else. He just had too much to do to give up, so he wasn’t.

Maybe it was Kurt’s attitude going into the hospitalization, maybe it was luck, but this time his stay in the hospital was smoother. He still got a little nauseous, but nothing like the last time. He was able to eat more, for longer, and tried harder to do so, although he still had a period of a couple of weeks during which he couldn’t eat or drink anything and had to rely on IV nutrition and hydration. He caught several infections, but they were minor compared to the previous time, and he spent the entire time on the cancer floor, with no trips to the ICU. His blood counts fell right on cue, but transfusions and medication kept the effects under control. And his counts recovered faster, so instead of six weeks, he stayed only a little over five weeks in the hospital this time.

Unfortunately, they soon learned that smoother didn’t necessarily translate into the desired results. Again, Kurt’s abnormal blood cell levels rose along with the normal ones, and another bone marrow biopsy confirmed that he was still not in remission. He had fewer cancer cells in his bone marrow this time than last time, and fewer last time than when he started, but the war was not yet won. He would have to undergo a third round of induction chemo.

After another two weeks at home, he returned to the hospital. He was tired. Although his anti-nausea drugs and antibiotics were again started early, neither seemed to work. Within hours of starting chemo, he was throwing up. It took two days of trying different drugs to get the nausea and vomiting under control, and he still had episodes of queasiness. He steadfastly refused to eat or drink anything, afraid that it would cause the nausea to return if he did, and the mouth sores and effects on his digestive tract were worse than the two previous times. He began running a fever almost immediately, and was diagnosed with a severe blood infection. He was transferred to the ICU, where he stayed for over a week, during which time he developed multiple secondary infections, and Blaine was told on three separate occasions to be prepared to lose him at any moment. The remainder of his stay continued in this manner, with several infections threatening his life and requiring multiple stays in the ICU. He needed more frequent transfusions and more of the drugs to encourage growth of white blood cells. Once his blood counts went into freefall they took forever to recover. It was almost eight weeks from the time he entered the hospital until his blood counts had recovered enough for him to safely go home. But it was all worth it, because he survived, and near the end of his stay, Dr. Miles performed another biopsy, and the next day, she entered his room smiling, and uttered the magic word Kurt and Blaine had been hoping for: remission. Kurt was finally in remission.

* * *

Remission, unfortunately, did not mean Kurt’s ordeal was over. Consolidation chemotherapy was necessary to catch any lingering leukemia cells that remained in his blood and prevent a relapse. Each cycle was shorter than his induction chemo, but had similar side effects. Each time, Kurt would enter the hospital for five days of intensive chemotherapy. He would remain in the hospital until his blood counts recovered, his digestive tract began functioning normally, and he was strong enough to go home, about four weeks after he entered the hospital. He would spend a couple of weeks at home before returning to begin the next round. After the last, near-fatal round of induction chemotherapy, Kurt was given more powerful anti-nausea drugs and antibiotics, and they were started several days before he began each cycle. Although he never felt well while enduring the chemo and necessary hospitalization, and always had to battle at least some nausea and a few infections, he did not experience anything as bad as his last round of induction therapy. After four rounds of consolidation therapy, during which bone marrow biopsies and blood tests continued to show no cancer cells or abnormal blood cells, Kurt was done. He would continue to be monitored, but no more chemotherapy was planned, just periodic blood tests and bone marrow biopsies, which would decrease in frequency as time went on if he remained cancer free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, the song Kurt is listening to after his hair starts to fall out is "Will I" from Rent. Second, I've said it before, I'll say it again: if there are any medical errors, I'm sorry; it isn't my field. I did my best, but as we all know, the internet is not infallible. Thank you so much for reading. I know this is long (the title wasn't for nothing), and I really appreciate anyone who's stayed with me so far. Please comment and let me know what you think: good, bad or ugly, or any combination of the above. Only three more chapters, including the epilogue. I will post each of the next two weeks, and I am leaning towards posting the epilogue in two weeks, the same day I post the final "real" chapter (I'd like opinions on that, too (posting chapter 29 and the epilogue the same day, as opposed to waiting a week to post the epilogue); there is something important that happens in the epilogue, and it was the reason I ultimately decided, after Cory's passing, that I would leave Finn in the story as originally planned, and not write him out or write his death).


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning to adjust . . . all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done. Just one more chapter after this plus an epilogue. Thanks so much for reading! Please, please comment and let me know what you think. It really does mean a lot to me.

CHAPTER 28

Kurt left the hospital after his fourth round of consolidation therapy on the last day of January, just a little over a year after being diagnosed. He had been able to spend a quiet Christmas and New Year’s at home with family before this last round, and had tentative plans to attend limited events at this year’s Fashion Weeks, after missing both last February’s and last September’s events. He was tremendously excited. Blaine was horrified. Kurt saw it as catching up on the fashion world and showing everyone that he was back, indeed had never truly left. Blaine saw only opportunities for Kurt to become tired, run down, and sick. He was terrified of people who might be ill being near Kurt. 

Kurt was ready to forget he was ever sick. To appease Blaine, Kurt finally agreed to go to Dr. Miles for a blood test, and to stay home if his blood counts were not good. It was the best appointment he could remember. Despite his fear of needles, he willingly submitted to the test, silently admitting to himself that there were advantages to the central line (which had been removed before he left the hospital after his fourth round of consolidation chemo), which had enabled him to avoid needle sticks while he had it. He triumphantly showed off his barely bruised arm to Blaine after the appointment. They returned the next day for the results. 

Dr. Miles entered her office, seated herself behind her desk, and turned to them with a broad smile. “Congratulations. Your blood counts have recovered quite quickly, and I don’t see any abnormal cells. You’re not quite up to full speed yet, so to speak, but I think it’s okay for you to begin going out in public, as long as you’re careful. Let your body guide you. Don’t go out if you’re tired or feel weak, run down, or ill. Don’t intentionally go near anyone you know is sick. Avoid crowded places whenever possible, because you don’t know who might be sick. As long as you stick to those rules, I don’t see any reason why you can’t go to your events.”

Kurt was practically bouncing up and down when she delivered the news. Blaine instantly began thinking about how to protect Kurt and keep him from overdoing things. As they left the office, Kurt was bubbling over with plans. “I have to call Jenna and have her book my flights. And your show. I haven’t seen your show. I want to see it before the original leads’ contracts are up!”

“Calm down,” Blaine cautioned. “First, have her book two seats on each flight, first class, side by side. You aren’t going anywhere without me. And you will be by the window, not on the aisle where everyone will be walking right next to you. And make sure Amanda and Jeremy both come, just like last year. They’ll be doing the bulk of the work, not you. You get to be there, give a speech or two, be on a panel if they ask, but no parties, no dressing rooms, no stress. And as for the show, it’s so crowded. I really don’t want you to be out in the theater district at show time. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Kurt turned pleading eyes to Blaine, “But, I feel awful that I missed opening night. And I’ve never missed one of your shows. Please, Baby, one show, one time. Please?”

Blaine sighed. Kurt wasn’t playing fair. Blaine couldn’t resist him, and he knew it, and was using that fact shamelessly. “I’ll see what I can figure out.”

* * *

That afternoon, Blaine came home after a few hours out and told Kurt to bundle up. “Where are we going?” Kurt asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Blaine informed him.

They went down to the car, which took them to Kurt’s favorite Greek restaurant, which had grown accustomed to packing up meals for him while he was at the hospital. The owner was thrilled to see him back again, and greeted him with open arms before leading them to a candlelit table in a tiny private alcove separated from the rest of the room by a heavy curtain. Kurt still didn’t have a great appetite, but did manage to eat a little pita, with tzaziki and hummus, avgolemono, and Greek salad. He slowed down a bit once the entrees arrived, but Blaine was thrilled with what he’d managed so far, so he didn’t push the matter. After the meal, which had been quite early, even before the pre-theater crowd hit, they returned to the car. 

Carolyn eased the car through the crowded streets near the theaters, slowly making her way toward the Imperial Theater, where Blaine’s show was still going strong. Kurt turned to Blaine with wide eyes. 

“Really?” He asked. Blaine just smiled in response. Carolyn finally eased to the curb by the stage door. The door was opened, and Blaine ushered Kurt out of the car and through the door rapidly. 

They were so early that the actors were just beginning to arrive. Kurt knew many of them, and he was greeted warmly by all who saw him. Blaine shooed everyone away, telling them he wanted to get Kurt to their seats before the crowd arrived, and reminding them that they needed to get ready for the performance. Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine led him upstairs to the balcony, then off to the side where the private boxes were. He took Kurt’s hand, pulling him into the box which had the best view, given the position of the boxes. Kurt followed Blaine into the box, then wrinkled his nose. It smelled like the hospital: antiseptic mingled with cleaning products. He sighed, then said, “You had the box cleaned, didn’t you?” It wasn’t really a question as much as a statement.

“God only knows who’s been in this box and what they might have had,” Blaine said by way of an answer.

“Dr. Miles said I can go out,” Kurt pointed out.

“She also said to avoid crowds. This show is crowded. The entire theater district is crowded. We can’t risk it. I can’t risk you,” Blaine insisted.

Kurt took a deep breath. He was going to be okay, it was just a matter of getting Blaine to see that. And what good was going through all that he had and surviving if he couldn’t live? “Sweetheart, do you remember when Ellie was little? How tiny she was, and they told us not to go out with her until RSV season was over?” Blaine nodded. Kurt continued, “Do you remember when they finally told us we could take her out? How scared we were?” Again Blaine nodded. “But eventually, we did take her out. Do you remember what happened when we finally started taking her places?”

“Nothing,” Blaine answered quietly.

“Exactly. We were both so scared that something might happen to her, that she was too small, too weak, that she would catch something and we might lose her. But nothing happened. She was fine. New York might never be the same, but Ellie’s fine.”

“But this is different,” Blaine protested.

“No, Honey, it’s not. The doctor said I can go out. I’ll be okay. I need to be able to do things. I fought to live so I could live. Do you understand? I need to do this. I need my life back.” He leaned into Blaine and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to his lips. 

When he pulled back, Blaine gave a shaky nod and squeezed his hand, tears in his eyes. He knew Kurt wanted to go back to the way things were, but he’d never forget how close he had come to losing him. But he was going to have to try. As much as he wanted to keep Kurt wrapped up safe and warm at home, he knew it wouldn’t work. Even if Kurt was willing to stay home and let Blaine protect him from everything, he would become bitter and resentful, and Blaine would lose him just as much as if the leukemia took him. And so, frightening as it was, Blaine would try to protect him at least a little less.

“Good,” Kurt said as he pulled a small notebook and pencil from his coat pocket. He never went anywhere without them, so that he could sketch if inspiration hit, or even if he was just bored.

“What are you working on?” Blaine asked, happy to have an opportunity to change the subject.

“A wedding dress,” Kurt answered with a cat that ate the canary smile.

“For?” Blaine was curious. Wedding dresses were not part of KHA’s normal lines. Each KHA wedding dress ever designed was a unique, one of a kind, never to be duplicated creation, designed to flatter a specific woman. Over the last thirty five years, there had been fewer than two dozen of them.

“Mary Beth,” he said simply.

“What? Oh, my God! When did she get engaged? To Jason, right?” Blaine pelted Kurt with questions. It had taken Kurt and Santana nearly six months of scheming and plotting, but they had finally succeeded in getting the two together. 

“Not yet, and yes, to Jason,” he said, not looking up.

Blaine laughed. “She’s not even engaged yet, and you’re designing her dress? Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Kurt smiled back.

Kurt enjoyed the play, as he had enjoyed all of Blaine’s shows. He lingered in the box with Blaine until the crowd thinned, then headed backstage. Kurt assumed they were just leaving through the stage door, the way they had entered. He was shocked to see a large cake bearing the words “Welcome Back Kurt” framed by bottles of chilled champagne. As he looked around, he saw not only the actors and stage crew he had expected, but a number of friends. He stood there, stunned, while everyone applauded. “Thank God you’re back. Keeping your husband in line is exhausting!” Ben exclaimed, enveloping Kurt in a hug. Kurt heard a loud pop, and a minute later a glass of champagne was pressed into one hand, a piece of cake into the other. Everyone congratulated him on his recovery, but no one monopolized him for long. After all too short a time, Blaine told everyone he needed to get Kurt home, and they said a quick goodbye before dashing to the car. Although he wanted to be annoyed at Blaine for cutting the party short, Kurt had to admit he was getting tired. In the back of the car, he lay down across the seat, resting his head in Blaine’s lap, grasping his hand as he yawned. He smiled up at his husband. All in all, it had been a wonderful evening.

* * *

The next morning Kurt began planning for the Fashion Weeks. He had, with only a little more help than usual from his assistant designers, designed the lines to be featured, and he had planned his shows down to the last detail, as usual. As it had not been certain he would be able to attend the Fashion Weeks, Amanda and Jeremy had already prepared to run the shows, as they had with the previous two. At least for this set of Fashion Weeks, that would not change, especially since each would be presenting their own sub-line for the first time. He was still not up to the work and stress of running his shows. However, he had been asked to speak on two panels, give a speech, and was to make appearances at three other events at the New York Fashion Week as well as attending his own show, with similar schedules in London, Milan and Paris. At Blaine’s insistence, he was avoiding parties and attending shows other than his own. However, that still left about two dozen outfits to plan for a month. Two dozen outfits that would be seen by the entire fashion world. It would take time and thought, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

He was a little nervous that he hadn’t been able to shop over the last year, but he was known for his quirky fashion sense that often combined vintage items with timeless pieces, so he felt relatively confident that the fact that the most recent thing he owned was from last year’s collections would go unnoticed. Having spent so much of the last year in either hospital gowns, pajamas, or loungewear like sweats or yoga pants, he was looking forward to dressing well, and for an audience. What he wasn’t prepared for was that nothing fit. He had been losing weight to the point that his clothes were too loose prior to his diagnosis, and he had lost a great deal of weight since. Nothing was going to work.

Blaine was at Ben’s studio with Adam. As usual, once he had one play up and running, he had begun work on another. It had been going much more slowly this time, as so much of his attention and energy had been focused on Kurt. However, he had most of the story fleshed out, and many of the songs written. Adam would be directing this show on his own for the first time, and Ben would be choreographing it. In theory, it would be their decision, not Blaine’s, as to how things would go, but neither man wanted to shut Blaine out. Since he began producing, he had never relinquished this much control over a show, and they were honored by his trust. This was their first meeting to discuss the staging of the musical numbers, and Blaine expected to be gone most of the day.

Kurt didn’t want to disturb Blaine. He had spent so much time trying to convince Blaine not to worry about him, to convince him that he would be okay on his own. But he needed help. He knew if he went shopping, Blaine would panic and drag him back to the doctor to make sure he hadn’t caught anything. He couldn’t order anything; it might not arrive in time for next week’s New York show, and even if it did, there would be no time for alterations if it didn’t fit properly. And he wasn’t even sure what size to order. As a fashion icon, he couldn’t be known to be using a personal shopper either; everyone had to know his decisions were his. Suddenly, he realized the solution. His office was full of trusted personnel who understood and appreciated his taste, and could be trusted to be discreet. They could also alter garments on the spot. His employees had been coming to him for the last year. It was about time that, like Blaine, he returned to work, he thought with a smile.

Now the only problem was how to get there. At one time, he might have thought about walking; he’d once been in great shape, and walked more as he danced less. Now, however, that was out of the question. The distance would kill him, and the streets were much too crowded. The subway also presented the problem of crowds. He could hail a cab, but if Blaine found out he would worry as much about who had been in the taxi as he would about the crowds. There was only one way left. Sighing, he picked up his phone and dialed the car service.

Everyone at the office was surprised and delighted to see him. He cheerfully confirmed that yes, he was going to the Fashion Weeks, earning him a round of applause. Although he was demanding, Kurt was not a tyrant and his employees loved him. The announcement gave him the opportunity to present the problem. Amanda spoke up first. “Do you remember Mason?”

Kurt cringed. The young man had shown tremendous talent, and Kurt had hired him as an intern a year and a half before. He was also the intern Kurt had fired a little over a year ago, then ended up begging to come back. Fortunately he had. Kurt hadn’t seen him since, although his most trusted employees gave him rave reviews. He nodded.

“Well,” she continued, “As great a talent as he’s shown in women’s fashion, he has an even more pronounced sense of men’s fashion. Might I suggest that you work with him?”

Kurt drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “Okay. Let’s see what he’s got. Have him meet me in my office. He has this afternoon. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll have to have someone else help me; I just don’t have time to coach him along on this.” With that, he turned and headed into his office.

A few minutes later a young man with coloring and a build remarkably similar to Kurt’s knocked on the door. He stepped inside as Kurt beckoned him in. Nervously, he pulled a sketch pad from beneath his arm. “Um, Amanda explained the problem. I have a few ideas,” he said, opening the sketch pad. 

Kurt gasped, slowly turning the pages. The designs were brilliant. He might just have found his new favorite designer, right in his own office. “These are really good. I wish there was time . . . .”

“I, um, I’ve got some of them started. I don’t have too much time or money to work on my own designs, so I just do it when I get a little extra time, if I can afford the fabric. I, uh, I sew a lot of my own things,” Mason said, blushing.

Patting his shoulder, Kurt said, “I sew too. When I was young, I made a lot of my own clothes. I couldn’t afford much, so I bought a few designer pieces when I could manage the money, and fleshed out the rest of my wardrobe with a combination of vintage pieces I found cheap, things I made myself, and knockoffs.”

“Anyway,” Mason continued, growing bolder, “We’re about the same height. I could bring in the things I have started, and finish them here over the next couple of days, if some people from the office could help me. I could also get a few things at this great vintage clothing store I know in the Village that would complement these designs.”

Kurt began to have hope. He stood and called Jenna into the office. “Give Mason a corporate credit card. He also has full access to any materials or personnel that he needs over the next few days. Whatever he needs, make sure he has it.” Turning to Mason, he said, “Do you think you can get half a dozen ensembles ready for me to wear next week? For the rest of what I need you can either work here and send things to me or you can travel with us and work there.”

“I can get it done,” Mason assured Kurt. “It will probably be better if I’m with you to check fit and make any necessary alterations. I know you can do it, but it’s hard to check and correct fit on yourself – I know, I do it. And while I know the dressers and other backstage staff could do it, I’d feel better if I did it myself, so I know it’s done the way I want and fits perfectly.” Kurt smiled. The young man reminded him of himself: a detail-oriented perfectionist with impeccable taste who found it hard to trust that anyone else would really get it right. “Do you mind if I run home? I can get the things and bring them back, so I can really get started tonight.”

“Let me call a car for you,” Kurt told him. “It’ll be faster.”

Mason thanked him and was gone, only to return within the hour. As it turned out, he lived in a tiny walk-up flat not too far away from the office. As he told Kurt, it might have been faster for him to literally run home, given Manhattan traffic, but getting the garments back would have been problematic. 

While he waited, Kurt lay down on the couch in his office to rest. As much as he hated to admit it, he was still not strong, and he tired easily. The stress of the day had just made it worse, and Blaine would be furious with him for doing so much. When he returned, Mason was startled to find Kurt asleep on the couch. He turned to Jenna with a lost expression on his face, unsure of what to do.

“Kurt?” She called, gently shaking his shoulder. “Mason’s back.”

Kurt sat up, shaking his head to clear it. He waived the young man into his office. Mason handed him several items and asked him to put them on. He took them into the bathroom and changed, returning holding the pants in place with a dismayed look on his face. “They’re too big!”

Mason laughed. “You’re a lot thinner than I am right now. My build is about what yours was when you hired me, so we’ll have to take them in. But they’d be loose no matter what – they aren’t done. On the other hand, that just makes them easier to alter. Can you stand on the coffee table?” He helped Kurt climb onto the table and went to work with a measuring tape, tailor’s chalk and pins. After a few minutes he helped Kurt down and handed him another set of clothes. Kurt went into the bathroom and changed, and the process was repeated two more times. 

As they went through the process, Kurt continued to become more and more impressed with Mason’s taste in fashion, fabric, and fit, not to mention his professionalism and generosity. Kurt did not forget that Mason was giving away clothes he had designed and made for himself. He vowed to find a way to repay him, beyond simply compensating him for the fabric. It was with that in mind that he headed home, hoping to get a chance to nap before Blaine returned.

* * *

The next day, Blaine kissed him good morning and fixed him breakfast in bed before going to meet again with Adam and Ben. Kurt promised he was going to stay home and rest, so that he wouldn’t tire himself out before the Fashion Weeks started. After Blaine left, Kurt got up; he had plans for today, plans he wasn’t planning to discuss with Blaine.

The experience the day before, in which none of his clothes fit, had been a wake-up call. Kurt not only wanted his life back, he wanted his body back. Entering the closet, he shed his pajamas and looked at himself in the mirror with a critical eye. He was too thin: his muscles were wasted, his bones were prominent and stuck out. He was bald; his hair had not yet grown out, and Dr. Miles told him it might take several months after the last session of chemo before it started to come back in. Blushing, even though he was alone, he realized that all of his hair had fallen out: he had no eyebrows, no hair on his chest, arms or legs, and well, a certain lack of hair made him feel that he looked nearly prepubescent. This was not the way he saw himself, and he was determined to fix as much as he could.

Obviously, he couldn’t do anything about his baldness or lack of body hair. He had considered a wig or toupee, but had felt uncomfortable in them, and they didn’t look right. Sighing, he resigned himself to living with that until it grew back. Blaine was right. He could make hats fashionable.

His body, on the other hand, was a different matter. That, he could change. He dressed quickly and began to put his plan in operation. First, he texted Ben: Call me when you’re alone. Don’t tell Blaine or Adam. Next, he went upstairs to the gym. He began by stretching. His body protested. He hadn’t stretched in over a year. He pushed on, moving on to yoga. After completing just half of his usual workout, he was exhausted and drenched in sweat. He forced himself to continue, lifting weights for a brief time. Even the lightest weights were difficult for him. He lay on the floor for several long minutes before getting up and walking on the treadmill; even walking slowly and with no elevation, he could manage less than fifteen minutes. Finally heading downstairs to shower before lying down to nap, he began to acknowledge to himself that perhaps this would be more difficult than he thought. But he was not giving up; he could, and would, do this.

He was woken up by his phone ringing on the nightstand next to him. It was Ben. “Kurt, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Ben, but I really need your help, and I don’t want Blaine to know.”

He heard a sigh from the other end of the phone. “Kurt, I’m not going to lie to Blaine.”

Kurt rushed to correct him. “No, no, I’m not asking you to lie. Just don’t tell him about it. It’s just that he’s so overprotective, he won’t like what I’m doing, but I need to do it. I –“

“I’m really not comfortable keeping things from – “ Ben cut Kurt off, but was cut off in return.

“Just hear me out,” Kurt begged, “After you listen to me, if you don’t want to help, you can walk away, just please don’t tell Blaine.”

“Okay, I’m listening.” 

“I need to get my life back, start living, really living. And that means I need my body back. I need to dance again. Not onstage, I’m too old for that, was too old even before I got sick. But I need to know I can do it, I need to get my body back to looking the way it did, or at least as close as I can.” Kurt explained.

Ben knew he wasn’t getting the whole story, and he wasn’t going to agree to help until he knew why this was important. “I understand wanting to feel better, get back in shape, and go back to living the way you did before. But this is something that takes time, and you sound like you’re in a hurry. You know better. Why the rush?”

Kurt really didn’t want to talk about it, but was certain Ben wasn’t going to help him until he knew everything that was going on. Softly he said, “I want Blaine to make love to me again.”

Ben’s heart broke. “Oh, Honey, just talk to him. Tell him that. He’s so in love with you.”

Kurt was fighting not to cry, which was why he just wanted to talk about what he needed to do, not the reasons. “I know he is. But we haven’t, um, done anything since I went into the hospital the first time, and that was more than a year ago. And I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Kurt, Honey, he’s been helping you bathe and dress for the last year. He knows what you look like.” Ben pointed out gently. 

Kurt sighed. “I know. But we really haven’t gone there in more than a year. He’s treating me like I’m going to break. And looking in the mirror, I can’t blame him. I need for him to look at me and see the man he used to, not someone who’s sick, fragile. I just want him to make love to me without worrying about hurting me.”

Ben gave in. “Okay, I’ll help you. But we do this my way. You follow all my instructions, to the letter, all the time, or not only do I stop helping you, I tell Blaine. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” 

“First, part of what you need to do is eat. I’ve spent the last two days with Blaine, and he’s still worried that you’re not eating enough. And from what I saw of you at the show the other night, he’s right. I’m not saying you have to stuff yourself, but I want you eating three meals a day, plus a couple of snacks. And that doesn’t mean two bites and you quit. I know you’re not hungry, Blaine told me you still don’t have much of an appetite, but you still need to eat. Do you understand? You’re never going to get your body back unless you eat.”

Sighing, Kurt said, “Yes, I understand. I promise. I’ll eat.”

Ben continued, “The next thing is to not overdo it. Blaine and Adam have some meetings this afternoon. I have a break. Come down to the studio. We can work in the small studio in the back. I’m going to start you off small, with things you can do at home or in your hotel room. Stretches, simple poses, gentle movements to get from one to the other. Slow and graceful. Nothing too energetic. You also have to tell me everything else you’ve been doing or thinking about doing with respect to this, so I can make sure you’re not overdoing this. It won’t help you if you exhaust yourself and can’t keep up.”

Kurt quickly agreed to all of Ben’s terms.

That afternoon, Kurt took a car down to Ben’s studio. He slipped in while the receptionist was busy. No one recognized him as he made his way to the back. It was confession time. He told Ben everything he had tried that morning, and how it had made him feel. Ben hugged him, then laid out a plan, involving dance, light cardio other than dance, yoga, and a few light weights, in rotation. He laid down the law: no more trying to do everything at once. In typical hyper-organized Ben fashion, after laying out the plan, he presented Kurt with a typed document detailing it. He then went through a set of stretches and dance moves with Kurt, closely observing how Kurt moved and what gave him trouble. He was definitely not as strong or as limber as he had been, but Ben had foreseen that, and the moves he had planned were designed to deal with the fact, gradually increasing his strength and flexibility. Kurt thanked him profusely, then hurried away to make it home before Blaine discovered he was gone. Leaving the studio, he felt better, just having an ally and a plan.

He was going to start living again. And that meant making love to his husband. He would take things slowly, but he would get there.

* * *

Two days after his impromptu appearance at the office, Kurt returned. Mason had the promised garments, and Kurt was thrilled. Mason had truly outdone himself. Very few adjustments were necessary, and Mason had somehow managed to make the clothes look fitted without drawing attention to the fact that Kurt was still far beyond thin. Mason had also managed to find vintage pieces and accessories that perfectly accented his designs. “Because you’re still so thin, I thought we’d try to accentuate your face,” he told Kurt. “I’m using hats and scarves to draw the eye up, play up your cheek bones, and emphasize the blue in your eyes.” Kurt was thrilled, and had finally figured out how to reward Mason.

It was just before lunchtime, and Kurt was trying very hard to comply with his agreement with Ben. “Mason, would you like to go to lunch with me? I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you.” Flattered, Mason quickly agreed.

Blocking out thoughts of what Blaine would say, Kurt walked with Mason to a crowded restaurant specializing in salad a block away, where they were seated in the middle of the busy dining room. After they were seated and ordered, Kurt was ready to begin. “Mason, you know that KHA has never had a full line of men’s clothing. You’re really good with women’s clothes, but you’re incredibly talented where men’s clothes are concerned. Why did you apply to work for me?”

“I’ve always admired your designs for women, and I loved your personal fashion sense. I felt like I could learn as much, if not more, from you than from any other designer. And I have. I wish you’d been there every day, like you were at first, but I understand why you weren’t. But even though you weren’t there all the time, I still feel like I’ve learned so much.” Mason gushed.

“Would you like for me to give you a recommendation so that you can work for one of the houses that designs men’s clothes?” Kurt asked gently.

“Are – are you firing me?” Mason asked brokenly.

“No. I’m just asking if you really want to stay with KHA or if you’d like to go somewhere that is known for men’s clothes.” Kurt assured him.

“I, I’d like to stay with you. If you’ll let me.” Mason answered.

“Good,” Kurt smiled. “I would have let you go if you’d wanted, with a glowing recommendation. But since you want to stay, what would you say to a promotion? You’ll officially be a junior designer, with a corresponding raise.”

Grinning, Mason replied, “I’d say yes! I’d love that.”

“Great. Now I have another proposition for you. What would you think of designing KHA’s first full line for men? I design a few things for myself, and I put together ensembles for myself, and occasionally, for my husband, but I’ve never really even considered designing a full men’s line. My talent is for women’s clothes, and I just don’t have that much interest in designing for men. I’ve never had a designer who worked for me who showed such a talent for men’s clothes, so we’ve never really had a men’s line. But since you want to stay, it seems a shame to waste your skills. We have so many designers who are great at women’s clothes, but you’re the only one who has the ability to design men’s clothes that I would be proud to put a KHA label on. What do you think?”

“I’d be honored,” Mason said.

“Perfect. Obviously, getting me dressed for the Fashion Weeks is your first priority. But do you think you can have a full fall/winter line prepared for the men’s Fashion Weeks next winter?” Kurt asked.

“Absolutely,” came the reply.

“Perfect,” Kurt said, beginning to eat the large salad that was placed before him. “By the way, if anyone asks, you’re my witness. You’re my proof that I ate lunch.” Mason, not realizing Kurt was deadly serious, just laughed and began to eat his own meal.

* * *

Wearing Mason’s designs, Kurt was the toast of New York’s Fashion Week. Keeping his promise to Blaine, he attended only his own show and the events at which he was scheduled to appear. Knowing what he’d been through, no one felt snubbed by his failure to appear at other events, and although everyone seemed to want to be near him, they respected the fact that he was still somewhat vulnerable, and most gave him his space. He used the extra time to sneak away to meet with Mason in preparation for the following weeks, preparing to be equally as successful at the other Fashion Weeks.

Although he was enjoying himself immensely, he had to admit that even though he stuck to his limited schedule, he was exhausted. However, he faithfully stuck to Ben’s schedule of dance and exercise, and ate, whether he felt like it or not, as promised. He had a goal, and he would get there, no matter how tiring the process.

Everything continued smoothly, right up till the third day of the London show, when Kurt awoke with a headache and a sore throat, feeling stuffy and congested. Blaine panicked. He wanted to call an ambulance. Kurt insisted it was nothing; however, given what had happened the last time he said that, he was unsurprised when Blaine was equally insistent that he see a doctor. Kurt tried unsuccessfully to argue that he could just see the concierge doctor, but Blaine insisted that he go to the hospital. He called downstairs, and the concierge arranged for a car to take them to a private hospital, where Kurt would be seen by an internist and an oncologist. 

At the hospital, a blood sample was taken, and then Kurt was examined. 

“He has leukemia,” Blaine informed the doctors.

“Had. I had leukemia. Had being the operative word. I’m in remission.” Kurt corrected. He was thankful this examination didn’t involve disrobing or painful tests, and was, in fact, limited to the waist up. Once the exam was done, the doctor informed him that he had a head cold. They waited until the initial blood test results were back. The oncologist told them his blood sample was within normal bounds, and no abnormal cells were present; he saw no need for further testing. Kurt was sent back to the hotel with a prescription for a decongestant and a suggestion that he drink hot tea with honey to soothe his throat, which was sore due to drainage. 

He spent the ride back to the hotel telling Blaine I told you so. They argued over cancelling his appearances; Blaine lost. They also argued over coffee as opposed to the recommended tea; this time Blaine prevailed. Kurt was annoyed enough to insist on going to the events himself, leaving Blaine at the hotel. On the way to his first event of the day, he called Amanda and told her to make sure he had a strong coffee awaiting him when he arrived. There was definitely more than one way to skin a cat.

The remainder of London’s Fashion Week was spent with an uncomfortable tension between Kurt and Blaine. However, Kurt continued to work on his exercises, and to eat regardless of his lack of appetite. The mere fact that he was eating was enough to make Blaine feel better, even if he didn’t know why. And as the symptoms of his cold gradually eased, so did the tension between the two men. By the Milan show, things became easier between them.

Overall, the Fashion Weeks were incredibly successful. The fashion world was abuzz with his triumphant return, discussing both his recovery and his stunning sense of style. The orders from buyers were rolling in. And he was slowly gaining weight, putting on muscle and beginning to look more like he had before he became ill. Mason patiently made any necessary adjustments to his new wardrobe. By the time they boarded the plane to fly home from Paris, Kurt was happy and relaxed, and Blaine was relieved that the Fashion Weeks were over without major incident. 

Reaching out to take Blaine’s hand, Kurt brought it to his lips and kissed it. He smiled at Blaine. “I’m glad this is over and we’re going home,” Blaine sighed.

Quirking an eyebrow at his husband, Kurt responded, “Mmmm. I have plans. And they’re just beginning.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

As they entered the apartment, Kurt took Blaine by the hand and led him to their bedroom. They were both tired and jetlagged, but Kurt didn’t want to wait any longer. As soon as they reached the bed, Kurt pulled Blaine down with him and began to undress him. Stunned, Blaine lay next to him and let him do it. Pulling Blaine’s shirt off, Kurt sat up and swung over him, straddling his waist. He leaned down to give him a slow, sweet kiss. Then he moved down, kissing his jaw, his neck, and his collarbones, before moving on to his chest, kissing each nipple in turn, licking and then blowing on them, enjoying the shivers that ran through Blaine’s body. Blaine reached up and began to undress Kurt. Their positions, combined with the fact that Kurt was unwilling to stop kissing and touching Blaine, even for a moment, made the removal of clothing difficult, and ultimately the difficulty resulted in them collapsed on the bed in a heap, giggling. It broke the mood enough to let them talk.

“God, I want this. I want you. I’ve wanted it for so long,” Kurt breathed.

“Are you sure?” Blaine asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m not a virgin. It’s not our first time. I do know what I’m getting into; I know what I want and what I’m asking for.” Kurt pointed out.

“I just really don’t want to hurt you.” Blaine said, clearly still scared.

“I know. And I don’t know if I’m ready for everything, not just yet,” Kurt said, remembering the pain involved as each round of chemotherapy had damaged his entire intestinal tract, from his mouth down. “But I need to feel you touching me, kissing me, I need to touch you, kiss you, please.”

“Okay,” Blaine acquiesced, “But promise me that if anything hurts or is uncomfortable, anything at all, you’ll tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I promise.” And with that, Blaine gently drew Kurt into his arms, kissing him and stroking, tenderly eliciting moans and gasps in a way that was possible only with years of loving, worshiping, the same person, the same body, from learning over time every secret, every spot, that made him feel good, loved, cherished. As he did, Kurt returned the favor. Eventually, they fell into an exhausted sleep, held in each other’s arms.

A month and a half later, early one May morning, Blaine looked down on a naked Kurt, asleep in their bed. His body was again littered with bruises, but Blaine knew exactly how each and every one had gotten there over the previous weekend; as always, he had been careful to leave no hickeys where they could be seen, so Kurt’s arms, legs, and neck were unmarred, but his torso, well that was another story. And they had both enjoyed every moment of it. It had been a long, slow journey of exploration and rediscovery, of learning each other’s bodies, minds, moods, and emotions all over again, but to both of them it had been so worth the time they took. Kurt had finally felt brave enough to allow Blaine inside him again; Blaine had been scared of hurting him, but afterwards both wondered how they’d made it so long without making love that way. Kurt, cold as always, shivered in his sleep despite the warmth of the spring morning; Blaine drew the covers back over him, hiding the perfect dancer’s body he had worked so hard to regain, before sliding back down beside him to hold him while he slept.

* * *

Things settled into a new kind of normal. Both men worked less, and focused on each other more. They attended social events on occasion, and occasionally hosted small parties, but mostly they spent time with each other. More often than not they stayed home. Sometimes they took trips together, to small romantic inns, intimate hotels; they visited places they’d never been, and revisited places they’d gone before, taking the time to really see, experience, and enjoy them for the first time. Blaine still worried, still wanted to protect Kurt, but forced himself to let Kurt live a normal life. He learned not to panic at the occasional minor illness, and Kurt learned to take it easy and let Blaine be overprotective sometimes. Kurt’s hair eventually grew back, curly and grey as he had been warned, which he refused to take lying down; time was added to his routine to have his hair colored and touched up regularly, and to straighten it each day. Kurt began to cook again. Although he rarely had much of an appetite, he made sure he ate, which reassured Blaine. They lingered over meals, talking and enjoying each other’s company. Kurt returned to dancing every day, as he had years previously; most days, Blaine joined him. They spent evenings and weekends curled on the couch, watching old movies, laughing and snuggling. Blaine never again complained when Kurt’s cold feet were placed against his skin to warm up. And long nights, and sometimes days, were spent in bed, making love, exploring each other as if for the first time, or simply holding each other, talking of their days, of hopes and dreams, or whispering words of passion or love. They learned to make every moment count, because they were both acutely aware that their time might be far more limited than they had once thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been to the Imperial Theater, along with several other Broadway theaters, but I don’t remember if it is one of the ones with private boxes. Absent knowing for sure, I just “planted” boxes there. Such boxes used to be common, but are less so now, and are often either used for lights or equipment or as an extra part of the stage since the sight lines tend to not be the best. If they are used for seating, they are often some of the last sold due to the less than stellar views, thus explaining how Blaine could obtain seats for a popular show on almost no notice.
> 
> RSV is a respiratory virus that causes a mild cold in adults and otherwise healthy children, but can be fatal in premature babies and those with a compromised immune system.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Comments make for happy authors and keep us going! Please tell me what you think (pretty please, I'm begging).


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm late posting. It's been one of those days (you know the ones - where you can convince yourself crackers and yogurt covered pretzels are a nutritious lunch, because that's as good as it's going to get).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and please comment. I promise I'll respond. We're almost to the end, just this and the epilogue, and I'll be posting both today.
> 
> I hate to do this, because I'm afraid you won't read this chapter, but here it is: Warning: Major character death.

CHAPTER 26

Everything was normal, and Kurt reveled in the normalcy. After taking a limited role in the fall/winter Fashion Weeks of February and March, he resumed his normal active role for the spring/summer shows in the fall, but voluntarily elected to let his trusted employees take on the bulk of the work for the next fall/winter show, finding that he actually enjoyed himself more when he limited his responsibility and commitments. He delighted in seeing Mason’s new line debut to rave reviews. But mostly, he just enjoyed living, enjoyed feeling normal, healthy.

Kurt didn’t even notice at first. He had never regained much of an appetite, but ate anyway, so it became routine. Therefore, when what little appetite he did have disappeared, he didn’t really notice. Nor did he notice when he gradually began to lose weight again. He didn’t notice when he began to get tired more easily, and when he did, he thought he was just overdoing things, so he just tried to slow down a bit. At first it helped, but then it got worse. When he began to get short of breath, he wrote it off as a cold. It was not until the sweltering June day when he went to change to go to the dance studio and caught a glance of himself, naked, in the full length mirror, and saw several bruises for which he had no explanation that he began to worry.

Blaine was always aware of Kurt’s health, but nothing seemed really amiss. Blaine didn’t notice the lack of appetite, as Kurt was forcing himself to eat. The slight weight loss could be attributed to his increased dancing. He was tired sometimes, but not exhausted as he had been, and he admitted it and responded appropriately, getting more rest, which seemed to help. A little shortness of breath corresponded in time to a mild cold, and only appeared when he was dancing or exercising, so Blaine figured it would resolve itself when the cold went away. So he was caught completely unaware when Kurt walked out of their bedroom, dressed not for the dance studio, as he expected, but in street clothes, and, taking his hand, looked into his face with wide, scared eyes, and said, “I think we should call Dr. Miles.”

“What? Why?” Blaine was confused. Kurt had been getting regular blood tests and periodic bone marrow biopsies; they had all been fine.

By way of an answer, Kurt unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. He heard Blaine’s sharp intake of breath. “There are more. And my appetite is gone. I’ve been eating anyway, thinking it would come back, but it hasn’t. I’m getting more and more tired again, and it’s getting worse, not better, no matter how much I try to rest. And I keep getting short of breath, sometimes it’s hard to breathe. I thought it was just a cold, but the cold is gone, and it doesn’t seem to be better. And the cold took forever to go away. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I hope so. I hope I go in and she just laughs about all this. But I’m trying to not ignore things like last time. I think we need to call.”

Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms. Kissing his forehead, he said. “You’re right. We can’t take any chances. Do you want to call, or do you want me to do it?”

Quietly, Kurt answered, “I’ll do it.” He pulled out his phone, found Dr. Miles’ number in his contact list, and hit the call button. Blaine never let go of him as he spoke to someone in Dr. Miles’ office, explaining his symptoms. A few moments later, he said into the phone, “Okay, I’ll be there. See you then.” It sounded so ordinary, more like a lunch date than a matter of life and death. Hanging up, he turned to Blaine. “I have an appointment for tomorrow morning at ten. The usual drill, blood test, bone marrow biopsy, exam.”

* * *

The next morning found them in Dr. Miles’ familiar office, truly scared and nervous for the first time in more than a year. After the first several months of good test results, the monitoring had become routine, something mildly annoying that just had to be done, but nothing to be frightened about. This was different. Less than three months ago, Kurt had been given a clean bill of health. Now, it seemed to both of them as though their world was ending all over again. 

The nurse called Kurt back. Taking a deep breath, he gave Blaine’s hand a squeeze before standing to follow her to the back of the office. Once in the back, he followed the familiar routine. First, he rolled up his sleeve and a technician drew his blood. Funny, he thought, that it always looks the same, whether the test results were good or bad. Next, he was led to the procedure room, where he changed into a gown and climbed onto the table to lie down. A few minutes later Dr. Miles came in and did the bone marrow biopsy, first asking if he wanted to be medicated before the procedure, an offer he refused as usual. Rather than having him move, she then conducted the exam in the same room, looking at the bruises, checking for any swelling or abnormal feeling lymph nodes or glands, listening to his heart, lungs, and intestines, checking his eyes, ears, nose and throat, and asking him detailed questions about his symptoms, recent illnesses, and other details. Finally, she was done. Kurt returned to Blaine in the waiting room, telling him the time of the appointment the next afternoon to go over the results.

They both took the day off, but really didn’t talk much. Neither wanted to give voice to their fears, but both were too consumed by them to discuss anything else. So they spent the day puttering around the house, accomplishing nothing, but periodically finding each other to just touch, hug, and hold one another. After an early dinner of delivery Chinese food, they headed for the bedroom. Blaine turned on the shower in the bathroom, turning to Kurt and saying quietly, “Please, let me.” And he quietly undressed his husband, drawing him into the shower to bathe him before drying and dressing him and tucking him into bed. Seeming to understand Blaine’s need to take care of him and do whatever he could for him, however small, Kurt didn’t protest. A few minutes later, when Blaine climbed into bed, Kurt snuggled into him, taking comfort in his warm, protective presence.

* * *

The next afternoon they were seated in front of Dr. Miles’ desk when she entered holding Kurt’s now substantial file, a new set of reports clipped to the front. One look at her face told them all they needed to know. “Well,” she began, “The test results are certainly not what we had hoped. Kurt, you’ve had a relapse. We need to start you on induction chemo again as soon as possible.”

“How bad is it?” Kurt asked bluntly. Blaine cringed.

“Pretty bad. The percentage of cancer cells in your blood is as high as when you were first diagnosed, and your bone marrow is worse than it was then. That’s why we have to move on this as quickly as possible.”

“Is it going to work?” Kurt questioned.

“I certainly hope so,” she answered. “If I didn’t think there was a chance, I’d tell you. Believe me, I would never put someone through this unless there was a chance they would get better. But I won’t lie to you. The chances after a relapse aren’t as good as with an initial diagnosis. You’re still on the list for a transplant, which will definitely be your best shot, but there’s still no match. Right now we need to focus on getting you to a position to do a transplant if a donor is found.”

Blaine was silently praying. So far, none of his prayers had been answered today. He was down to his last: Please God, let Kurt cooperate; Kurt, please don’t balk. 

Kurt sighed. “When do we start?”

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief as Dr. Miles said, “As you know, we have a few tests to do at the hospital, we’ll need to put in a new central line, and we need to start your antibiotics and anti-nausea drugs. Given your typical reactions, I would have liked to have had them on board for a few days before we started the chemo, but we can’t afford that kind of delay, so I would like to admit you tonight and start them. We’ll start your chemo in the morning.”

“Lumbar puncture?” Kurt asked. When Dr. Miles nodded, he said, “Can Mary Beth do it? And the central line?”

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll call and see if she’s available. I need to call and set up your admission anyway. How quickly can you be back here?”

Turning to Blaine, Kurt said, “Baby, you know what I need. Could you please pack for me and bring my things over?” When Blaine nodded numbly, Kurt turned to Dr. Miles and said, “I can go now.”

Blaine left to pack for Kurt and for himself, having no intention of leaving him that night. On the way back to the apartment he called Ben to apprise him of the situation. Ben immediately went into action. Meanwhile, Kurt waited in a small conference room while Dr. Miles made her calls. 

A short while later, a nurse appeared to escort Kurt across the bridge linking the medical office building to the hospital, where he was met by Miranda. “Just couldn’t stay away from me, huh?” She joked.

“You caught me,” he said. 

Holding out a gown, she said, “I know this isn’t really your favorite attire, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with it for a few hours. Hopefully we’ll get you changed into your pj’s before you go to sleep, otherwise we’ll get you into them in the morning.”

“Well, since I came directly from Dr. Miles’ office and I wasn’t really planning on being here, it’s pretty much my only choice. Blaine’s bringing my things in a little while, but Dr. Miles wanted to get me started as soon as possible.” Kurt told her. That answered her next question, which was why he arrived alone, accompanied by only a nurse.

Before she could leave to let him change, a red-haired sprite entered, saying, “I thought we agreed not to meet here anymore. We’re only supposed to meet at restaurants or your office, and only to discuss the engagement, the wedding, and my dress. Not here, not for this.” She was fighting back tears.

“Sorry,” Kurt apologized. “But I think we’re about done with the design. Once you approve it, we’ll take measurements and start the actual dress. Once that happens it would be really helpful if you didn’t gain or lose weight, and don’t get any taller.”

“Right,” she snorted, smiling through the tears. “As if. I’ve been trying to get taller for years. Hasn’t worked yet. Now get changed and let’s do this.”

Both women stepped out and Kurt changed into the gown quickly, barely getting it tied in back before an orderly knocked on the door. He climbed onto the gurney, not surprised when Mary Beth took control. He held his breath through two harrowing races through the hallways, saying, “I’m really glad you’ll be able to put me back together if you break me!” Mary Beth just laughed.

She placed his central line, then took him back to his room. “I’ll be right back,” she told him after helping him move to the bed. “Get ready for me. You know the drill: on your side, facing the door.” She walked to the nurse’s station and made a few notes in his chart, then handled it to the nurse. “As soon as possible,” she said.

The nurse nodded, saying, “Dr. Miles wanted his other meds started as soon as the central line was in anyway. I’ll just do this at the same time. Give me about ten minutes.” She called the pharmacy, telling them to bring the newly ordered medication immediately. When it arrived, about five minutes later, she took it, along with the previously ordered medication which was already at the nurse’s station, and headed to Kurt’s room.

“What is all that?” Kurt asked, although he was pretty sure what it was.

“Fluids, antibiotics, anti-nausea meds, and pain meds,” she told him. 

“I don’t need pain meds,” he told her as she hung the bags from the stand at his bedside and hooked them up to various pumps and machines before attaching them to some of the lines branching off of his central line.

“I don’t make the orders, I just fill them,” she said, which was not entirely true. She was a nurse practitioner and a pain specialist, and had the authority to order and adjust certain medications on her own. She set the pain pump to deliver a regular dose of pain medication, as Mary Beth had ordered; Mary Beth had wanted it on board before the lumbar puncture, which she knew by now was bound to result in a severe headache. The medication never seemed to help with the pain much, but it would make him sleepy, and might just knock him out long enough for the headache to resolve.

Mary Beth waited about twenty minutes for the pain medication to start taking effect, using the time to make sure everything she wanted was on the tray. She went in with the nurse who would be assisting her and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm. Fuzzy. Sleepy.” Kurt answered.

“Good. Maybe this time your head won’t hurt as much.”

“Mmm.”

“Okay. Draw your knees up to your chest and hold really still.” She cleaned his back, then numbed it first with numbing cream, then with a local, before inserting the long needle into his spine. After a moment she removed the needle, then told him, “Okay, Kurt, straighten your legs. Let me help you.” She helped him to roll onto his back, then instructed, “Stay on your back for the next four hours. I’ll have the nurse tell you when you can move.”

“’Kay,” Kurt responded sleepily.

Leaving the room, she ran into Blaine in the hallway. “I started his central line and did his LP, so he’s done for the night. They started his meds before I did the LP, so everything is going. I ordered the pain pump and had it set to automatically dispense pain medication for the next twenty four hours. That should get him past the headache from the LP. After that the nurses will back it down to the on demand only setting, until he proves to us again that he won’t use it even when he needs it. I did have them start it before I did the LP, with everything else, so even if it doesn’t help with the headache it may at least make him kind of sleepy. When I left a minute ago, the headache hadn’t started yet, but he was pretty out of it. I’m hoping he can sleep off the headache. I’m really sorry you guys are back here. You know I was rooting for him.”

“I know. Thanks so much for taking care of him, even when he fights it.” Blaine said. Standing on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick hug, then was down the hallway. 

He went into the room and found Kurt sound asleep. He crossed to the bed and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then began setting Kurt’s things up, plugging in the I-pod dock and starting music, placing pictures, and folding Kurt’s blanket and throw across the end of the bed. He pulled his own pillow and blanket out of the bag, folded the couch down, and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt in the bathroom before settling in for the night.

The next several weeks proved to be a replay of Kurt’s near disastrous last round of induction chemo the first time around, with repeated ICU stays, deadly infections, and several brushes with death. The side effects, from nausea to increased bleeding, from hair loss to intestinal damage, hit him harder and faster than in any previous round. There was, however, one critical difference: the bone marrow biopsy done a few weeks after the chemo drugs were ended showed only a slight reduction in the concentration of cancer cells in his bone marrow rather than the hoped for remission, and subsequent blood tests showed that the abnormal cells in his blood rebounded just as fast as the normal ones. He would need another round of induction chemo.

It was two months after reentering the hospital before Kurt was strong enough and had enough of an immune system to go home. It took almost a month of rest at home before he was strong enough and his blood counts were high enough to return to the hospital for the next round of chemotherapy. This time, he was prepared with antibiotics and anti-nausea medication a week before beginning his therapy, and things went a little smoother. The infections weren’t as bad, the nausea controlled a little better. However, in the end, the results were the same: there was almost no change in the percentage of cancer cells in his bone marrow, and his immune system was destroyed. It took even longer for his blood counts to recover. Kurt knew the news wasn’t good, so he wasn’t really surprised when Dr. Miles asked to speak to he and Blaine together.

“The drugs we used before have been ineffective this time. We added some stronger chemo drugs into the mix both of these last two rounds, but they haven’t helped. Kurt, right now you aren’t strong enough to withstand another round of chemotherapy. I would like to say it’s going to get better, but realistically, patients in your position don’t generally gain enough strength or good enough blood counts to withstand more chemo.” She told them gravely.

“But what about a transplant?” Blaine asked.

“First, there’s still no match for Kurt. Second, he’s not strong enough to withstand the chemo necessary to prepare for the transplant.”

“No! You can’t just give up on him!” Blaine insisted, beginning to raise his voice, which carried a panicky tone.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Kurt soothed, “Everyone’s done the best they could. We aren’t going to win this one.” Looking at Dr. Miles, he said, “I’d like to go home. If I’m going to die, I want it to be on my terms.”

“Okay. I understand. I’ll make arrangements.” She told him.

“Without this,” he said, gesturing at the central line.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ll need it for antibiotics, fluids, nutrition, and pain medication.”

“No. On my terms.” He insisted.

Sighing, she said, “I’ll arrange for it to be removed, but you should know that it may mean another trip to the hospital, instead of being able to stay at home.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said. “How long do I have?”

“That’s hard to say. If you got a major infection now, it could be just a few days. More likely it will be a few weeks, maybe even a few months.” Dr. Miles said.

Kurt nodded. Blaine just shook his head in disbelief, tears spilling from his eyes. Dr. Miles bid them goodnight and left. “Come here, Baby,” Kurt said, holding his arms out to Blaine. Blaine crawled onto the bed with Kurt, curling up against him and laying his head on Kurt’s chest. Kurt held him while he cried himself to sleep, then succumbed to sleep himself.

* * *

The next morning a hospice nurse visited them as they prepared to go home. She urged Kurt to keep the central line, which led to Kurt threatening to refuse hospice care. She suggested a hospital bed in the apartment, which Kurt also rejected, saying he wanted to die in his own bed. He did grudgingly agree to have a wheelchair in the apartment, to assist with his mobility when he was weak, in pain or getting winded easily, and to a removable bench in the shower. He also agreed to daily checks by a hospice nurse. After the coordinating hospice nurse left, they began to prepare for the trip home.

Mary Beth came in to remove the central line, making a last ditch effort to convince Kurt to keep it. “Hey. You can’t give up. You’re going to need this, for treatments, antibiotics, transfusions, pain meds. . . .” She trailed off, looking at him. “We’re not done. My gown isn’t done. You can’t just quit.”

Kurt looked at her sympathetically. He had come to terms with what was going to happen, and was trying to comfort those who cared about him. “I’m not giving up, but I’ve been really lucky. My dad survived heart trouble more than once, and cancer; I ended up with a great stepmom and stepbrother; I found Blaine, and we’ve had so much wonderful time together; we’ve both had incredible careers; we have these three amazing kids; we have family and friends who love us. But I’m pretty sure I’m all out of miracles. I’m not going to win this time. But I can feel as good as possible, as normal as possible, for as long as I can. More treatment could kill me, and I’d spend the rest of my life sick and miserable. Without the effects of the chemo, I can take most of the medicine I need by mouth, so I don’t need this,” he said, pointing to the central line, “And normal people don’t have alien creatures coming out of their chests.” Mary Beth laughed. “And my part of the gown, the design, is done. You didn’t really think I would be sewing it myself, did you? Bridal fabrics look and feel amazing, but they slip like crazy – they’re a nightmare to work with. I pay other people quite well to deal with them so I don’t have to.” She ended up removing the central line and promising to come to the apartment for gown fittings.

By afternoon they were packed up and ready to go. They said their goodbyes to a tearful staff and headed home. On the way, Blaine called Ben; he hadn’t been able to do it yesterday – he kept praying for someone to walk in and tell them the test results had been wrong and everything would be okay. Ben answered and Blaine began to cry; Kurt gently took the phone from his hand and said, “Ben, hey, it’s Kurt. We’re on the way home. There’s not really anything else they can do at the hospital. Can you let everyone know?”

Ben took a deep breath. He had known things weren’t great, but he didn’t know it was this bad. “Is there anything you want us to do?”

“No, not really,” Kurt answered, “And to answer the question you aren’t asking, we don’t know how long. If I get sick right away, a few days. I might make it a few months if I’m lucky. But I want spend whatever time I have left enjoying myself, enjoying the people and things I love, not lying in a hospital bed with treatments that are making me sick and miserable and won’t give me more than a few more days or weeks, with no quality of life. I guess what I’m saying is that while I’m not up to it today, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t deactivate my studio key.”

Ben laughed. “I will never deactivate your key,” he promised.

“Thanks,” Kurt said. “Now we’re almost home and I need to deal with Blaine. He’s kind of a basket case right now.”

* * *

It was almost Thanksgiving. Kurt had called the kids the night that Dr. Miles had spoken with them, explained the situation, and invited them to the apartment for Thanksgiving. They all knew it would be his last. Between the crowds in New York City and the fact that it was cold and flu season, it was too dangerous for Kurt to shop or go outside, not to mention the fact that he tired too easily to deal with much. He was also in no shape to prepare the meal. Patrick, however, was more than willing to take his father’s place, doing for him what he had done for the kids for so many years. Ian, a for once subdued Ellie, and Graeme carried out Patrick’s orders, until at last the meal was on the table in the dining room, and the six were seated around it in their customary places. Blaine attempted to say grace, but broke down. Kurt completed it for him; although he didn’t believe in God, he knew how important this was to Blaine. The meal was conducted in near silence, the only sounds the clinking of silver and china, or the occasional soft request to pass a dish or a salt or pepper shaker. Kurt finally stood and said loudly, “I would like to make an announcement. I’m not dead yet. And furthermore, I would really appreciate, since this is a holiday, if you would stop acting like it. This is supposed to be a celebration, not a sad excuse for a wake.” Everyone else at the table froze, stunned, for a few seconds. Ian was the first to break, snorting with laughter. Ellie glared at him, everyone stared at her, and then everyone was laughing except Ellie. As Graeme leaned in to kiss her, she finally saw the humor in the situation and began to giggle. “Thank goodness. And by the way, if you do throw me a wake, it better be a lot more fun than the first half of this meal.” Kurt declared.

Kurt tried to maintain as normal a life as possible. Blaine was terrified of letting Kurt be exposed to germs, and realistically, Kurt knew that any illness for him would be more serious than for a healthy person, and could be fatal, so he left the apartment only rarely. He really didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t stand to be cooped up all the time. So when he felt well enough he worked out in the gym upstairs, or went to the studio to dance. Friends came to visit, as did family: Finn and Quinn and his nieces and nephews all came at least once, Carole came and spent two weeks, even Cooper flew in from LA. He occasionally went to the office, but only if he was feeling good and Jenna certified the office to be “disease free.” Jenna, Amanda and Mason acted as personal shoppers for him for Christmas gifts, and he thanked whatever powers that were (thinking that if God did exist, he was probably an engineer – either that or a teenage girl who desperately needed to keep in closer touch with her friends than possible with a land line) for cameras and smart phones, which allowed him instant veto power over some of their more interesting impulses. It also led to the thought that maybe he shouldn’t entrust these people to carry on his business after his death. If he was feeling really well, and was willing to spend the day with Blaine (who was rarely away from him; sometimes he just had to send Blaine out of the apartment for everyone’s sanity), they drove out into the countryside, often finding quaint, near deserted, roadsides restaurants in which to eat, or having a picnic on the rare relatively warm winter day. He still had weekly appointments to check his blood values: sometimes they got a little better; most of the time they stayed the same or got worse. He managed to fight off several illnesses; going to the doctor at the first symptom proved to be a valuable strategy, and he spent much of his time on oral antibiotics. When necessary, he went to the hospital for a day for IV antibiotics or transfusions. On bad days, he was in pain, sometimes due to the leukemia, sometimes due to infection, sometimes for unknown reasons; he was given oral pain medication, which he usually refused to take. The hospice nurses were willing to set up a pain pump for him, and Mary Beth was willing to risk her job and malpractice insurance to do it, but he didn’t want one. He wanted to remain clear-headed as much as possible, so he took pain medication only when the pain was truly severe, and usually then only because Blaine begged him to do so. If he was in pain, he was still alive. And more than anything right now, Kurt wanted to live.

No one was sure Kurt would make it until Christmas, but it arrived and he was still alive, and relatively healthy. The toll of the disease on his body was clear: he was again frighteningly thin, and ten minutes of dancing could wipe him out for the rest of the day. But he was there, and had no intention of fading away quietly, or soon. He had told everyone not to get him gifts for Christmas, but he was roundly ignored. In the days leading up to Christmas, he had fielded a steady stream of visits from family, friends, neighbors, and employees, not to mention delivery after delivery. Blaine and the kids decorated the apartment under Kurt’s direction; he had planned to leave it to them, but took over duties as director after seeing several items placed incorrectly – completely missing the conspiratorial glances exchanged between his children. When Christmas arrived, the meal showed signs of repeating the pattern from Thanksgiving, so he made his announcement before Blaine attempted to say grace. This time Blaine managed to hold off the tears, and thanked God profoundly for every day he’d been granted with Kurt, as well as their remaining blessings. Kurt managed to eat some, which was not always possible. Afterwards, they opened presents. Blaine was both astounded and appalled at the gifts from Kurt, because all he could think of was how Kurt had risked his health, no his life, just to buy presents. Kurt, however, was quick to defend himself, saying, “I behaved, really!” Seeing Blaine’s disbelieving look, he continued, “Check my phone! Mason, Jenna and Amanda helped me. I gave directions, they shopped, made suggestions, sent pictures, and I approved or disapproved stuff. They even wrapped everything for me. I also engaged in a little internet retail therapy. Trust me, you’ll see the bills.” At that, Blaine relaxed, and enjoyed the day with his husband and children.

* * *

That evening, after the children left, Blaine helped an exhausted Kurt prepare for bed. As he tucked him in before going to get ready for bed himself, he sat down next to Kurt and held his hand, stroking it. “I want to tell you about your anniversary present,” he said.

Kurt smiled. “Our anniversary isn’t for another five days.”

“I know, but I need to tell you about it now.”

“Why?” Kurt asked warily. Did Blaine know something about his health that he didn’t?

“Because,” Blaine answered slowly, leaning in to kiss him gently, “You need to pack.”

“Pack?”

“Mmm-hmm. I booked the inn where we had our reception for a few days. We have the honeymoon suite again. They know the situation. They aren’t very crowded right now, but if they get crowded or have a rush in the dining room, they’ll bring everything up to our room.”

“Mmm,” Kurt smiled, “What if I just don’t want to go down?”

Now it was Blaine’s turn to worry, “We don’t have to do it. If you don’t feel up to it . . . .” Blaine knew when he planned the trip Kurt might not feel well enough, or might be sick, or God forbid, might not even have made it that long.

Grinning, Kurt said, “No, I’m tired, but I’m having a good day. I’m just suggesting that I might not want to leave the room for other reasons.” Reassured, Blaine smiled, gave Kurt a quick kiss, and went to get ready for bed. 

The trip was a success. They spent a little time walking in the woods, and ate in the dining room in a quiet alcove a couple of times, but spent most of the time in their room. Kurt didn’t feel up to too much strenuous amorous activity, but they cuddled a lot, and each knew how to please the other in slow, gentle, relaxed ways. They tried, and sometimes succeeded, to forget that Kurt was dying. Other than a slight fever one evening, Kurt felt pretty good, although tired, during the trip, and arrived home exhausted but incredibly happy.

* * *

Nearly a month later Kurt developed a fever and a cough, and began to have trouble breathing. Blaine rushed him to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with pneumonia. He was admitted and placed on IV antibiotics. There was discussion of a respirator, but Kurt shook his head. “You know if they put me on that thing I’ll never get off. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be hooked to a machine to stay alive. I don’t want to die here. I want to go home.” As much as it killed him, Blaine honored his wishes, refusing the respirator. Kurt managed to hang on through several days of antibiotics, but it soon became clear that they were not working. “Please,” he begged, gasping for air, “take me home.” The doctors explained to them both the process the disease would take, and urged Kurt to stay. He refused, and signed himself out against their advice. Blaine took him home.

The kids met them at the apartment. Blaine put Kurt to bed, propped on pillows to help him breathe, then each of the children went in to see him alone for a few moments. They knew it might be the last time. After they were done, they agreed to return in the morning. They would come several times a day until the end.

Two days later, Kurt began struggling for air. Breathing had become progressively more difficult and painful as his lungs filled with fluid. Blaine immediately climbed into bed with him, cradling Kurt against his chest and holding him up so he could breathe a little easier. “Should I call the kids?” He asked. Kurt nodded. Blaine placed the calls, never releasing Kurt. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt gasped.

“Shh, Baby, it’s okay,” Blaine soothed. “I love you so much, but you just do what you need to do now.” Taking a deep breath, he looked his husband of over thirty-five years in the eyes, and told the first blatant lie, not counting white lies about things like presents, he had ever told Kurt during their marriage. “The kids and I, we’ll be okay. The sun won’t shine as brightly, or the birds sing as loudly or as well, and the night sky will have lost its brightest star, but we’ll make it. I promise.” In reality, he had no idea how he was going to go on without Kurt, who had been his entire reason for living for over forty years now.

Kurt managed, “Love . . . you,” before his eyes closed for the last time. A few moments later he took a few rattling breaths, then his breathing stopped. A few seconds later Blaine felt his heart stop beating as well. He held Kurt and rocked him like a baby, his tears falling gently on Kurt’s bald head.

That was where the kids found them when they arrived nearly an hour later, having had to fight rush-hour Manhattan traffic to get there. Taking in the scene in their parents’ bedroom, they instantly understood that they were too late. Patrick went into big brother mode, motioning to his brother and sister to go in, as he stood just outside their door and made the appropriate calls before going in to help comfort his Papa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you probably hate me right now, but please, please comment. Even if it's just to tell me how much you hate me. I really do want to know what you think.
> 
> Note: I will also be posting the Epilogue today.


	30. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please read this if you've gotten this far; you'll find out what happens to Blaine and the kids, and Finn plays a vital role. Thank you so much for sticking with this story. The fact that anyone is willing to read it means a lot. And please comment, and let me know your thoughts. I will respond.
> 
> Warnings: Suicidal thoughts; major character death

EPILOGUE

 

The funeral was held several days later. Finn delivered the eulogy, and then called Blaine to the front. Blaine had planned to speak, but broke down. None of the children could manage it either, so Adam stepped up to the podium.

“A long time ago, this stunning man with the voice of an angel auditioned for my show choir group at NYADA. And I fell in love. But he was already so in love with someone else that I never had a chance, but I was lucky enough that he decided to keep me around as a friend. And when I met the man he was in love with, I understood. It was through Kurt and Blaine that I was introduced to the love of my life, who made me forever grateful that Kurt didn’t want me.” Chuckles erupted around the room as he continued, “I have loved both Kurt and Blaine for years, and as tempted as I am to tell really embarrassing stories about both of them, and believe me, I could, it just wouldn’t be the same without Kurt’s bitch glare telling me to shut up without uttering a word. I know we’re all here to celebrate Kurt’s brilliant life, and Finn did a great job of that. But I also know that while we’re trying to celebrate, we’re also mourning, because now each and every one of us has a huge Kurt-shaped hole in our hearts and our lives, one that we’ll never be able to fill. So I’m going to try to express how I feel, and how I know Blaine and the kids feel, how I think most of us feel, using Kurt’s favorite medium: song.

Every single morning I wake up and pray  
I’ll find the strength inside me to get me through the day  
The shower falls like a thousand tears  
If could just get past the fear  
Of living life without you every single day

Every perfect stranger I pass in the street  
Their eyes they shine like diamonds, and their happiness is complete  
How can they laugh and carry on  
Don’t they know that you have gone  
And I am left without you every single day

Every single day I find  
You’re the first and last thing on my mind  
I’ll miss you till the end of time  
I’ll miss you every single day

Everyone knows sorrow, loneliness and shame  
But until you lose someone you love  
You’ll never know real pain

What am I supposed to do  
Without you here to pull me through  
Your memory  
It just won’t do  
Every single day

Every single day I find  
You’re the first and last thing on my mind  
I’ll miss you till the end of time  
I’ll miss you every single day

Everyone knows sorrow, loneliness and shame  
But until you lose someone you love  
You never know real pain

What am I supposed to do  
Without you here to pull me through  
Your memory

It just won’t do  
Every single day

Your memory  
It just won’t do  
Every single day 

* * *

After the funeral, everyone gathered in the apartment. It hadn’t been that full since a party the year before Kurt got sick, but it never felt emptier to Blaine. There were so many people that no one really noticed when he slipped away. The kids, with help from Carole, Finn, Quinn, Adam, Evan and Ben, played host, so he really wasn’t needed. It wasn’t until everyone left that Ellie, who was planning to spend the night at the apartment, found him.

A few minutes later, she placed a panicked call. “Uncle Finn? Can you come back to the apartment? It’s Papa. Please, hurry!”

Ellie hovered nervously in her fathers’ bedroom doorway until she heard Finn’s knock half an hour later. Rushing to let him in, she said, “I found him like this after everyone left. He won’t talk to me at all, and I’m so scared.”

Finn walked in, seeing Blaine sitting on the bed staring at bottle after bottle of pills. Each time Kurt had gone home, he had been sent with pain killers; he almost never took them. Finn realized quickly that there must be hundreds of pills. “Hey, Dude, what’s going on?” He asked, approaching Blaine cautiously, as though he were a wounded animal. He didn’t want him to suddenly take anything if he hadn’t done so already.

“I could be with him. It would be so easy. I wouldn’t have to figure out how to do this without him. It wouldn’t even hurt, that’s what these are for, to make the pain stop.” He gave a humorless laugh.

“Blaine, look at me,” Finn said. Blaine slowly looked at him with red, tear-filled eyes. “You know what they say, it’s journey, not the destination. Even though Kurt’s journey is over, it was a hell of a ride; he’s made it to his destination, but you haven’t. You’re going to end up in the same place, but your journey is just going to be a little longer than his.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Blaine said brokenly.

“You’re right; you can end yours right here, right now, and be with him tonight. But you know Kurt and the bitch glare. Do you really want to deal with that for all eternity? And eventually, a long time from now, Ellie will be with both of you, and then you’ll have it from both sides. Are you prepared for that?” Finn pointed out. 

Blaine smiled for the first time that day, before beginning to really laugh. “No, I’m really not, now that you mention it.”

“Good. Let’s get you something to eat. I don’t think you’ve had anything all day.” Finn put his arm around Blaine’s shoulders and guided him out of the room. As they passed Ellie, who had been watching from the doorway, he whispered to her, “Get rid of those. Now.” She nodded, then ran in to gather up and dispose of the pills.

Later that evening, after Blaine went to bed, Finn and Ellie searched the apartment, finding and getting rid of all of Kurt’s old medication. Still worried, they called the boys, explained the situation, and the three children worked out a schedule to stay with Blaine for a while, and to search the apartment for drugs every day or two, just in case the thought of joining Kurt recurred.

* * *

Over time, the kids quit spending nights at the apartment. Blaine began to try to live again, which included starting to write again. His plays and music were both as successful as ever, but critics noticed that his newer plays were much different than the light-hearted fare he had been known for. Eventually, they would refer to the work done after Kurt’s death as Blaine’s “dark period.” It lasted the remainder of his life. But he did continue to have a life, to live as Kurt would have wanted him to. 

Three months after Kurt passed away, he sat in the congregation and watched a tiny red-headed young woman marry a tall blonde man. As she walked back up the aisle in the last KHA wedding gown that would ever be designed, now on the arm of her new husband, she reached out to touch Blaine’s shoulder, silently mouthing, “I miss him so much.”

KHA designs carried on, officially headed by Ellie. Ellie, however, left the day to day workings of the business to those who knew the industry better than she did: Jenna ran the business end, while Amanda and Mason ran the design divisions. Everyone involved strived to live up to Kurt’s legacy.

Patrick eventually became known as one of the top art restorers in the country, if not the world, as well as an artist in his own right. He married an art history professor at NYU, and they gave Blaine his first grandchild a year and a half later. Ellie followed suit after making partner at her firm, and found herself thoroughly annoyed with Ian for scheduling his wedding, to a kindergarten teacher who loved him dearly and was wholly unimpressed by his rock star status, for a month before her due date, forcing her to attend while hugely pregnant. Ian had become a star, as the lead singer, lead guitarist, and primary songwriter for his band, on the strength of the song he had written during Kurt’s first hospital stay; it would always be their biggest hit. He too would soon become a parent, his wife having twins just a year after the wedding.

Blaine spent as much time with his grandchildren as possible, telling them all about their Granddaddy Kurt, trying to make him as real and alive to them as he still was to Blaine. 

He spent time with friends and family, and he did his best to always honor Kurt. He could not, however, bring himself to try to date again or form a relationship with another man. He was well aware that there would never be anyone else for him. 

As he grew older, he spent more time alone, with his memories. His favorite place was the room he had shared with Kurt for so many years. It was in that room, in their bed, that Patrick found him, nearly thirty years after Kurt’s death. They were finally together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Adam sings at the funeral is Every Single Day by Greg Trooper, from the album Everywhere. He and his wife wrote it for his wife's father after he passed away. Sadly, Greg himself lost his battle with pancreatic cancer on January 15, 2017, two days after his 61st birthday. If you've never heard the song, it's worth the effort to find it and listen.
> 
> If you've made it this far, and stuck with me for the entire journey, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I have one last favor to ask you: Please, please comment. Let me know what you think, even if you hate me right now. I'd really like to know, out of the entire story, what is your favorite part, your least favorite, and what wasn't there that you would have liked to have seen (if it's compatible with the story, I might right it as a chapter for Along the Road). Again, thank you. You don't know how much your reading this has meant to me.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Blaine sings for his audition is Try Not To Cry by Greg Trooper, from the album Everywhere.
> 
> Reviews are wonderful! Please, please let me know what you think, good, bad or otherwise. If you have questions or have anything that you would like to see written as a one shot, please let me know.


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